Vindicated
by LenoreKingsley
Summary: The recall was sent and Angela Ziegler was on her way to rally up with her allies at Watchpoint: Gibraltar. On her journey to the old facility, tragedy strikes, causing her to veer off course with unexpected company. After hesitantly accepting his assistance, can Mercy truly rely on the man behind the mask, or is the mask all that remains of the man she once knew?
1. Recall

The nights had grown colder as summer began its rapid descent into autumn. This wasn't a problem for Angela Ziegler, a Swiss native who is accustomed to the mountain chill and winter's bitter cold snaps. Yet, the damp, wet roads of King's Row were nothing like her homeland. Her black leather boots slapped against the rainy cobblestone streets, the sound reverberating but otherwise blending. It was late evening and the town seemed more alive now than it was when she first arrived hours ago, when the sun was still high in the sky.

Angela blended in well with her surroundings, tugging the white woolen trench cloak closer to her body, whispering prayers into the collar that her jeans wouldn't get too soaked from the water getting kicked up from the ground. She needed to act anonymously though, it was vital. Just as the other's had, Angela received Winston's recall notice, something that was created though thought to never be used. Ever since the PETRAS act, Overwatch activity was put to a halt. Angela more than anyone had suffered many terrible, personal blows during the last Omnic Crisis and felt obliged to adhere to the protocol of the international law. It never stopped her from traveling and assisting others independently though.

That was, until the recall came.

She had been hesitant to accept the invitation out of sheer fear of the repercussions it would have for her old allies. After a bit of thought, that was also reason enough for her to join them again in battle. They would need a doctor, one that knew their history and nuances almost to a fault.

So here she was, wandering around in civilian clothing and clutching tight to a metallic briefcase in one hand, looking like a lost tourist that was swept away in the winding streets of England. The rendezvous point was Watchpoint: Gibraltar, an older facility off the southern coast of Spain. While it made more sense to travel directly to the base from where she had been in Southeast Asia, Angela knew it would draw too much attention. Instead, she decided to detour to King's Row before sneaking onto a charter to Morocco before jumping off as they passed the old facility. While all this illegal activity for travel was more or less up McCree's alley, Angela had little choice. All ex-Overwatch operatives were heavily monitored, especially by passport. It was against her morals to be so questionable, but there was no choice. For the sake of her fallen friends from years past, she had to do everything in her power to protect those that are still alive now.

"Watch it!" A crusty old voice bellowed toward Angela as and elder man brushed past her in the opposite direction. With a furrowed brow, the blonde doctor watched as the man passed by with some scrutiny. By the time she turned forward again, she saw another person begin to bristle past, and another, and another one yet. Quickly, more and more people were starting to herd into a single direction. Were they running away from something, or racing to an accident in progress? As a doctor, it always disgusted her how quickly other spawn to the scene of an accident, flocking around to gawk at the loss of life while doing nothing to assist. A train wreck, car crash, a battlefield; these were not places meant to gawk at for entertainment.

A resounding gunshot ripped through the air up above, as if audibly confirming Angela's fear. Something was wrong, terribly wrong. With deft movement, the doctor dove for a nearby alleyway, skulking a bit in the shadows until she was certain no eyes were on her. That was when she gave the briefcase at her a quick flick. Within moments, the luggage unlatched and began to shift out what had been stored. It was the Valkyrie suit with her favored Caduceus Staff and Blaster. She had made modifications to make them collapsible for sake of travel, and she was especially grateful for the upgrade in this moment. In no time at all, Angela had slipped into her uniform without much suspicion. A flourish of her wings and an ominous golden glow in the inky black alley were the last sight any might catch before she was sent skyward. A crackling buzz echoed in her ear from a communicator. It was old Overwatch technology that held open lines on all nearby channels. It was something Winston had created back in the day, a device she had thought was outdated until now.

"Shooter on the roof, I repeat, shooter on the roof!" A spry, female voice cried out before another gunshot was heard. The heart of the doctor sank rapidly as she recognized the accent and tone. It would only make sense Lena was here, this was her home. Knowing her old companion was near strangely comforted Angela, but no more than it troubled her at the same time. There was gunfire, and Lena was in the middle of it.

The Valkyrie suit began to run a diagnostic scan based on the location of Tracer's radio signal, picking up the vitals of the orange-clad girl as well as several others, many of which were falling into critical levels. She had to hurry before more lives were on the brink. With an extra push of energy, Angela raced over to an adjacent rooftop from where she saw Tracer. The young girl had been curled up, left to writhe in agony as a nearby Talon vessel departed. By the speed of her suit, Angela hovered before Tracer with her staff in tow. A milky gold glow began to wash over the younger woman, her body beginning to loosen up from the tight ball she was pulled into from before.

"I'm taking care of you, stay still." The blonde doctor called out in a soothing warm tone, causing the England-born brunette to peek up at here with round, meek eyes.

"My word, Mercy, is that you, love?"

"I was making my way to answer Winston's call...what happened here-"

The concerned words were swiftly silenced by an ominous shade of black smoke curling around her body and yanking her away from Tracer as if she were nothing more than a ragdoll. With surprising strength, Mercy was thrown at a nearby brick wall, left to weakly gather her bearings as Tracer began to run over.

"Watch out!" Tracer called out as the murky shadows began to take form before Mercy. It swirled upward like a pillar of death until the apparition took physical form. Standing before the Swiss doctor was the international threat known as Reaper, one polished gun aimed inches away from Mercy's nose while the other was steadily aimed on Tracer.

"You-!" Mercy breathed out, clutching the wall for support still. She glanced over the dark figure's broad shoulders to ensure Tracer was fine. It seemed she was, though she too was left to stand frozen in place.

"Even when it's not my mission, I still clean up after Talon." The distorted, husky voice called out between them before his guise turned toward Mercy with certain malice. "At least this is a worthwhile venture."

"Stay away from her!" Tracer called out defiantly, earning a dark chuckle from Reaper who cocked back the gun aimed at the English native. This caused the smaller girl to snap her mouth shut and simply stare down Reaper and the blonde woman just beyond her view.

"It's been too long, Doc." His voice boomed toward Mercy, clearly attentive on her exclusively. "I'm here for my annual check-up. Sorry I'm late."

"I don't take walk-up appointments, sorry." Mercy murmured quietly in response, eyeing the man cautiously.

"First for everything." He remarked as she slowly approached the blonde woman, causing her to shrink against the wall and pull out her Caduceus Blaster for good measure. Despite this, Reaper didn't seem threatened at all and continued walking toward her.

"I said stop!" Tracer barked out, the volume of her tone suddenly booming as a trail of bright blue caused the smaller girl to be standing between Mercy and death incarnate. Without skipping a beat, Reaper smacked Tracer aside with the back of his hand, causing the girl to cry and skid against the ground.

"Tracer!" Mercy shouted with her pistol still aimed directly at the man before her. Just as her finger wrapped around the trigger, Reaper knocked the small gun out of her grasp. During her bewilderment, a clawed hand latched painfully tight around Mercy's throat, pinning her against the sharp grit of the wall.

It was then that Mercy noticed Tracer's feeble form attempt to get to her knees after being knocked down. Blonde brows knitted together in grave concern once she noticed something. The light on Tracer's chest was dimming and began to flicker weakly. The brown-eyed girl noticed the doctor's stare and glanced down, her own fear coming to fruition at the sight. The chronal accelerator was her anchor in time, and if that was destroyed, she'd be lost. Maybe it'd only be hours, but it could be days, weeks, even months. It was then that Mercy had to make a judgment call.

"Get out of here, Tracer!"

"B-But-!"

"Find Winston and fix your chronal accelerator before you lose an anchor!"

"Who says she gets to leave-" Reaper began to rear his head over to gaze at the energetic girl on the ground before the air was knocked out of him. Mercy had managed to grab her Caduceus staff and knock the pole end into his stomach, causing him to lurch back several feet. With a firm stare, Mercy nodded to show Tracer she'd managed. There wasn't going to be a second chance for her to escape, she needed to take the opportunity now. With a fleeting grimace, Tracer blinked away as fast as she could manage while still keeping in mind her limitations.

Reaper was quick to recover, to Mercy's chagrin. She watched with bright sapphire eyes as the ominous smoke began to swarm around his body, as if a maelstrom of rage. Hard leather slapped against the rooftop with heavy thuds, his footfalls slow and methodical as he approached the doctor with her staff poised before her.

Then, he stopped.

For a moment, Mercy had stopped breathing as she watched the man pour his eyes over her form in an almost frantic manner. Confused, she glanced down and noticed a single gleaming dot hover against the polished white curve of her stomach. Before she could react, a bullet was fired from the far side of the rooftop, penetrating through her armor. All at once, the angelic form of the woman collapsed forward, though she was surprised to find that she wasn't lurching against the ground with her face against the concrete. No, it was the scent of wet leather and ammunition that comforted her as she grabbed at the wound on her stomach. Sanguine rivers began to pour out of the small hole, seeping through her clothing and between the fingers which clutched her stomach gingerly.

"What are you doing?" A lethal tone demanded from Reaper toward the culprit. It was an average looking sniper, one clad in Talon regalia. The man nodded toward Reaper respectfully as he approached. "Orders from above. Any and all ex-Overwatch operatives are to be subdued and brought in directly to Talon."

"You fuckin' shot her." Reaper seethed, still holding Mercy in his arms as he craned his head toward the sniper. The man shrugged in response to the venom.

"Didn't you hear me? Orders are orders."

"...no, I didn't hear you." Reaper spoke in a dark, low tone after a long pause. Shortly after his words left his lips, he readied his gun in a free hand and blew away the sniper with a single bullet. "You died before you could report to me."

"No!" Mercy cried out, panting as she felt the adrenaline kick in. She wasn't sure if it was from the sudden merciless death before her or if it was her nervous system kicking in after the shock of being shot herself.

Reaper tossed his gun aside carelessly, allowing it to meld into the shadowy pool that had formed beneath their bodies. How could Mercy not have noticed the murky depths below them? Likely because she had been running her medical knowledge through her head about gunshot wounds. It was her attempt at keeping herself calm.

" _Did it miss the major organs? Do you have any immediate swelling or bruising? Is the bullet lodge inside or did it pass out the other end?"_ She ran off the questions in her head almost repetitively, as if she'd deduce it all without taking a look at the wound. As if reading her troubled mind, Reaper tugged Mercy into his chest with both arms as carefully as he could. Funny, he had no allegiances with her; he shouldn't be bothered with her well-being at all.

"What're...a-augh...what are you doing?"

"Getting you out of here. More Talon agents will come."

"Don't you work for Talon?"

"I work with them, not for them." Reaper almost snapped back his response, though as soon as Mercy had winced in pain, he seemed more subdued and in thought. "You can't heal yourself with a bullet still in you."

Ah, so it hadn't gone through the other side.

"Verdammt..." Mercy whimpered quietly as she pulled her milky white hand away, revealing the dark crimson of her palm from holding the wound. She was losing too much blood far too fast. She needed to get somewhere to peel this armor off, but there would be no way she could make it alone.

"Take the help or die." Reaper spoke with some finality, clearly frustrated at her hesitance to the situation. He knew what would happen if she hesitated any longer, and so did she. After a solemn moment of debating bleeding out or accepting help from the vile man, Mercy weakly nodded her head.

"A-Alright..." She replied softly, blue eyes a bit dimmer than before as she peered up into the cowl of the terrorist who has caused so much death these last several weeks alone. From this close, she could see the radiant glow of those crimson red irises beaming down on her.

"Hold your breath and shut your eyes." Was the last Reaper said as he clutched the frail woman's body closer to his leather-strapped torso. Within seconds, both of them were covered in a plume of the inky darkness, enveloping them and yanking their forms down into the puddle of black until nothing remained of their presence on the rooftop.


	2. Tequila

An ethereal chill sent goose bumps along Mercy's body. It wasn't the fact she had lost so much blood, rather, it was from the swirling winds that whipped up around her and Reaper's bodies. Never had she thought she'd see the man so soon in battle, let alone agreed to his assistance in saving her life. She never imagined the recall order would be sent out either, but here they were. There wasn't a choice for the doctor, time wasn't on her side. He knew that as well, to the point where he willingly extended the offer and was currently traveling through the mystical black river of shadows to salvage her life.

Part of Mercy wanted to disobey Reaper's demands by stealing a peak at what was surrounding them. If she were in good health, curiosity would have gotten the best of her. If she were fortunate enough for a second time along this path, she'd be sure to take a glance. Some things might be better a mystery in the end.

Another shiver ran down her spine, a bit harder than before. With her face tucked into the chest of the man, Mercy tried to focus on keeping herself calm and not let the pain seep into her mind. It was rather difficult with a bullet lodge deep within your body. A raspy gasp escaped her as a sudden amount of pain surfaced, causing a sweat to form above her brow. There had been a clawed hand wrapped just beneath her legs while the other hand cradled the back of her head gingerly. He had been firm yet gentle at the same time, clearly devoted to saving her life while causing her the least pain possible during this expeditious travel.

"Aah-…no good," Mercy croaked out weakly, features still scrunched in pain as she buried her face closer into his chest. "…I'm afraid I can't stay awake…much longer."

"Don't fall asleep on me." An order beckoned her, as if motivating her with that firm tone his words held. His statement was met with silence, which only made him quicken his pace. While Mercy was already drifting on the brink off falling unconscious, she could have sworn the hand behind her neck had craned her face closer to his. In fact, it felt as though he were now burying his face into the golden crown of her hair. If only she could open her eyes and see it for herself. Maybe it'd let her know if this is all a dream or not, a fleeting fragment before she is left on death's door.

"Stay with me, Ziegler."

The words were hollowed, a dull echo in her mind as the internal darkness began overtaking her. If she could, she'd have put up more effort on staying awake. A dainty hand had been trying to apply as much pressure to the wound as possible while Reaper focused on running. She had to wonder if his peculiar, inexplicable kindness would go to waste. No, that was negative thinking. Mercy had survived far worse in the field, in the old days in particular. There was no way a single bullet from a nameless Talon operative would kill her. Not like this. Not now.

It was as this newfound resolve permeated Mercy that she felt the brisk wind suddenly die down. It was as if they had been swimming too far in the darkest depth of a lake, only to resurface for the warm air up above. While Reaper's body had been cold as well, at least they were no longer within the shadows. Mercy couldn't open her eyes, but wherever they ended up, the weather was favorably warm for this time of the year. Were they still in Europe? Even while on the brink of death, Mercy could not help her curious mind from wandering to these simple questions. Maybe it was another subtle tactic she was using to not focus on the encroaching dark, come to steal away the last bit of light in her body.

"We're here." Reaper remarked quietly, his tone devoid of malice as he walked across what sounded like a mix of sand and stone. Her mind began to zone out on these sounds, attempting to create a picture of where they were with them. There were tiny chirps of a cricket in the background, and the slow hum of music that droned on in the background. It was acoustic, beating out a hearty, emotional rhythm. While Mercy was not slow on the uptake, she could only take a guess right now to say they were somewhere in South America. The creaky swing of a door was the only thing that broke her attentive thought. After a few moments more, the sound of leather boots grinding into dirt and sand was replaced with the echoing footfalls of wooden planks.

"No one will come around here, not even the street rats."

"Mmph…"

"Yeah, give me a second, Doc."

A sudden jostle caused Mercy to gasp, hearing Reaper kick at some furniture in the room. It scrapped against the wood floor, likely damaging it in the process. For some reason, she mused he wasn't all that bothered with being gentle with the décor. Delicately, Mercy's form was laid down on a hard surface that resembled a dinner table. Reaper began walking around the table, and she could feel his eyes on her form. Was he having second thoughts on agreeing to this? Perhaps he hadn't thought she'd honestly take up the offer. She didn't expect to either, but what choice was there in the matter?

The sound of leather rippling caused Mercy to finally open an inquisitive eye and gaze across the room. The hanging lamp above her body was one of the only sources of illumination in the room, but through the veil of darkness, she could see Reaper begin to strip off gauntlets and roll the sleeves up on his jacket. This caused a whimper to escape the woman as she tilted her head in an attempt to garner a better view.

"If you don't stay still, you're gonna strain yourself even more."

"…you aren't a doctor."

"No, but I've been shot enough to know though."

"Do you know…how to begin?"

"Like I said, I've got personal experience with this." Was all he replied with as he approached Mercy's frail form. Her skin turned to an ashy hue that did not look healthy, nor did the sweat which broke out. She had seen better days, and hopefully she'll be fated to see more days in the future after tonight. With their minds syncing up again, Reaper's bare hands began to dutifully unclasp the Valkyrie suit with swift measure.

"A-Ah, you can't remove the breastplate without unlatching—"

"I've got it, Doc." Reaper stammered out of his mouth as he focused on removing her suit. Strangely enough, he was quite fast at unfastening every connector on it. Did Talon have files on the Valkyrie system she donned? The thought fell from her mind as Reaper slowly hoisted the front and back plates of her armor away, revealing the under suit. Part of the man wished he hadn't taken off the white pearlescent armor. In its place was a sitting pool of blood with tattered pieces of her torn uniform surrounding the wound. Mercy couldn't pass up the opportunity to steal a glimpse at her own wound now that it was in sight.

" _Scheiße_ …" She breathed out raggedly at the sight, a bit shocked at how devastating one shot had been.

"Talon is trained well enough. You shouldn't be surprised."

"…didn't see it coming."

"No, and I don't see why you need to see the wound either."

"Call it…a Doctor's Curiosity."

"I'll call it being fuckin' stubborn and not resting after I told you not to strain yourself." Reaper then placed his hands on her body, one gripping her right hip to keep her positioned against the table while the other reached over to the left side, where the wound was. It wasn't a perfect angle, but at least the bullet missed major organs judging from the sight of impact.

"That bad?" Mercy meekly called out, her lidded eyes glued to the dark cowl which hovered over her body. A gruff noise escaped him as he wandered off a brief moment, leaving her to fidget on the table. When he returned, he clearly held something in his hands. In one, there was a small carving knife, in the other, there was a bottle of tequila.

"What's that for…?"

"To cut you open."

"N-Not that, _that_."

"For the pain. I gotta dig deep into you and pull that bullet out. It's not gonna be pleasant, and we aren't about to seal up the wound without taking out the slug first." He spoke in a plain tone, as if for once she were the daft patient being condescended upon. Her brows knitted together in frustration as he offered it her way.

"I don't like tequila."

"It's about to become your best fuckin' _friend_ once I cut into your stomach."

"…I-I can't sit up to drink."

A dark, dry sigh of frustration escaped Reaper as he bent over her form and lowered the neck of the bottle close to Mercy's lips. Pressing the opening of the bottle closer to her mouth, he slowly tilted the container so that the liquor could flow down her tongue and throat in a gauged manner. After an amount equivalent to a sip entered her mouth, he pulled back and watched as she practically choked on the alcohol. At this, Reaper couldn't help but laugh darkly, though it wasn't his usual, threatening tone.

"I'll keep it close by, reach for it when you need it."

"…it's disgusting, no one can drink that."

"Yeah?" He challenged her with a defiant tone. With the hand that didn't hold the knife, Reaper hand gripped the narrowest part of his mask—just where the chin rested—and pressed it back against his forehead, sliding it partway off. Dull blue eyes began to brighten at the sight. She could barely make out the marred flesh and full set of lips. The mask had only been moved enough to catch a small glimpse of his lower face. He swiftly brought the bottle to his own lips and took two generous swigs from it before setting it aside and repositioning his mask. If only he would have kept it pushed away. She doubted she'd get to see any more any time soon.

"Tequila won't erase the pain, but it's worth a shot." He spoke, the distortion only furthering the mocking tone to his voice. Mercy grunted out her frustrations at the carefully hidden pun, clearly not in the mood for the taunt. He then grabbed hold of the knife with renewed purpose while also preparing gauze with some stray cloth he likely found in a cupboard when he had fetched the tequila.

"Take a deep breath and get ready, this isn't going to be enjoyable."

"I'm a doctor…don't tell me twice what I already know."

Without wasting another second, Reaper drove the knife's edge into her flesh, causing the blonde doctor to cry out in agony. To his surprise, she stayed relatively still despite being cut apart like an animal at the meat market. He wasn't a man of medicine, but at least he had experience under his belt to know how to handle a bullet wound.

A few minutes passed and Reaper had cut open a big enough opening for him to reach in with a set of pliers he had found. Mercy had been breaking into a high fever, but it was commendable that she was still conscious. Her eyes were slits at this point, but upon seeing the pliers, she arched a brow questionably at him.

"Did you disinfect those…?"

As if to answer her question, he grabbed the bottle of tequila in his free hand and poured the liquor over the edge of the metal. Mercy scoffed in response, but it held little protest in tone. There wasn't much she could do at the moment, and while she didn't exactly want to contract a disease from improper tools, her Caduceus Staff should be able to scan for anything of the sort and neutralize it. That's when Reaper brought the bottle back to Mercy's lips so she could carefully take another sip.

"…I don't need it." She said while taking a slow, small sip regardless.

"It's for me, not you."

As the lingering burn of liquor scorched her insides, she could feel the metal pliers dig deep into her stomach and sift around for the bullet. A loud scream she did her best to muffle made its way out of her mouth, but Reaper didn't seem to mind. Part of her thought he'd berate her, but it seemed like he wasn't in the mood to taunt her. Instead, he focused on finding the metal slug. It hadn't taken him long at all to locate. Fortunately, it hadn't lodged itself anywhere important. Perhaps Talon wasn't as well trained as he had mentioned.

"Almost…"

" _Verdammt noch mal_ …it stings."

"You were fuckin' _shot_ , I sure hope it hurts." He stated flatly, voice strained as he finished pulling out the pliers from her body. Mercy's back finally arched as he held the tool up high enough for her to see the bullet that had been wedged inside her body moments ago. He had set it aside, now focusing on bandaging up the site of the wound after he finished cleaning it up with a wet rag.

"I can heal with the Caduceus Staff…give it to me."

"Give me a moment, dammit."

"It's not necessary, the nanobiology involved with that staff will mend the flesh—"

"Quit being stubborn and let me do this." He interrupted with an impatient, frustrated tone, clearly not wanting to be bothered with her protests. His patience had thinned considerably for some reason.

"You don't need to bother, I can—"

"Stop."

"But I—"

"Fuckin' hell, _Angela_!"

The room suddenly grew quiet as the name reverberated in the silence that came with it. It was as if the world had stopped rotating and they were left to forever stay in this moment. Mercy's eyes opened a bit more, searching his unreadable guise for a sign, for information. None came as Reaper had also stopped to stare down the woman on the table. She opened her mouth to speak, but the man was quick to snap out of his trance and finish what he had been doing before recklessly setting the Caduceus Staff against the table. Without another word, he stormed out of the room and past the doorway to the outside, leaving the blonde woman to watch his retreating form.


	3. Agitation

An hour had passed since Reaper had extracted the bullet from Mercy's stomach. While she hadn't expressed her full gratitude, she wasn't sure if she could right now. She was knitting over her anxiety of how he knew her name. Just what sort of intelligence did Talon have on the Overwatch operatives? Would they know of Watchpoint: Gibraltar being their new base of operations as well? The thought left her feeling sick. It didn't help the bitter taste of tequila lingered on her tongue. Mercy would have found a cup of water to nurse, but she resigned to resting on a nearby couch. She was able to move enough after a steady stream from her Caduceus Staff, but the wounds were still fresh. No one else could use her gear, not that it should be used for such prolonged periods of time regardless. If there was a faulty piece in the Valkyrie suit or her weapons, she'd have a hard time repairing them without the proper tools. At least only one hole in the armor was all that blemished her armor so far.

Somehow, Mercy managed to slip out of her damaged under suit that was heavy with the metallic scent of blood. She didn't know whose home this was—as it certainly couldn't be Reaper's—and she'd hate to ruin the upholstery. She had decided to borrow an outfit from a nearby dresser, an oversized black short sleeved shirt with a pair of almost knee-length shorts in a similar dark shade. She had little choice in the matter, and it looked comfortable enough. It admittedly felt strange to be in someone else's clothes, within their home, without a sign of the previous tenants in sight.

These were some of the thoughts that passed through her mind as she rested and avoided thinking of the skulking gunslinger that helped save her life. Would he be coming back to check up on her? Maybe he'd return to undo his handiwork and silence her before word of his soft side could get out. Then came the matter of thanking him for bothering with pulling the bullet out at all. He had every intention of placing a few in her himself, so what stopped him? She had just nailed him with the blunt force of her staff, he was motivated enough to attack her. None of this had made sense, but at least the creak of the front door meant she could leave these thoughts be for now.

Mercy opened her mouth to welcome the man back, but then again, this wasn't her home. She had no reason to act so hospitable, especially to him. The woman rose to her elbows, leaning up to watch the tall, brooding form of the man enter the room. He almost seemed like he was avoiding her. That'd be difficult to do, considering they were the only two in the room.

"Where did you go to?" She asked quietly, though the hint of curiosity could be hear from a mile away. Clearly not energetic enough to entertain her, Reaper remained silent as he cleaned off the table, his back to the blonde woman. This rubbed Mercy the wrong way for some reason. Now he decided to give her the silent treatment? Then she'd have to try to instigate the problem in order to address it in the open.

"Angela Ziegler…that's my name…and this is the first time I've told you it."

"I know that's your name."

"How?" Mercy shot back with amicable concern, tilting her head as she watched his form still at the table. She noted how his hands—gauntlets and claws back on—clutched the oak table, as if partially leaning onto it for support as he mused his answer. There was a long, drawn out silence that was unsettling for the doctor. Fortunately, Reaper didn't leave her waiting for too much longer, though he held a question for her in response.

"Do you know me? Do you know who I am?"

"…you are international terroristic threat only known as Reaper; a man who associates himself with Talon, who ruthlessly kills everything in sight in ways that are even beyond my skill of saving, and hunter of ex-Overwatch operatives."

"That's information you can get on the news channel." He quickly whipped his body around and paced forward, standing stoic and tall before Mercy who still rested on her propped elbows. For once, she felt a bit intimidated by him. He had just saved her life, and here she was, berating him for information he clearly could not give, not willingly. He then spoke up again, giving her another spark of hope.

"I asked you if you knew who I am, not what I am."

"…I don't know…do I?"

"That's not the right answer."

"The corpses you leave behind have such intense degradation, they can barely be labeled as human...as if their life had been sucked dry. I can barely grasp the logic to the technology, and I am the forerunner of nanobiology to date."

"Do you really plan on fishing for answers the whole night, Doc?"

"It's Angela, remember?"

This caused Reaper to pause in thought and stare down at the doctor. While she couldn't see behind his visage, she could tell he was seething a bit by her defiant remark. It certainly struck enough of a cord to make him grow silent. She'd take the small victories where she could, given the situation. She was a stubborn thing, and it seemed like he was too. Yet, the one advantage she had on him was patience. Being a doctor meant having a wellspring of patience, which was something he certainly lacked. With that in mind, she hoped to spur his ire enough to gain some more insight. Before she could put that plan into action, he turned his back to her and appeared ready to walk off again.

"Rest up. Even with that staff of yours, you still need to replenish the blood you lost."

"Excuse me?" Mercy proclaimed indignantly, finally pushing up and sitting properly on the couch with her legs off the edge of the cushion. "You wanted to kill me a few hours ago. A hunter of ex-Overwatch agents, that's what I said you are. So, what has changed between then and now where you're not as eager to tap my body dry like the other victims?"

"Don't test my patience, woman."

"Am I not worthy of being a target?"

"Doctor." Reaper spoke in a tone that was seeped with contempt, her plan clearly working.

" _Angela_." She corrected him once more, gaining an over the shoulder sneer from the man. He was getting his buttons pushed by her, and for some reason he couldn't help but fall prey to it. Part of her was amused by it, but she knew this man was still lethal. There was a line she needed to tiptoe on, one that she needed to make certain she didn't fall off of.

"Go. To. Fuckin'. Sleep." Reaper said again with the same finality as he had when she was shot, giving her a one-sided ultimatum. A moment of silence formed between them in that otherwise vacant room and Mercy had to consider what she wanted to do next. That's when the distinct hiss of pain could be heard coming from the blonde doctor's lips, as well as the shifting of fabric. Reaper had stolen another side glance and could see that she was attempting to stand.

"Sit down. Now."

"No, no, it's quite alright. I can manage with this on my own. You've been a great help, but you might switch on me again and I'd rather not stick around until then."

"I said sit down!" Reaper's voice rang a higher octave than usual, the distortion in his voice more obvious at this volume. When Mercy showed no sign of abiding to his wishes, the looming dark man spun around and gazed down at her. With a measured step, he entered the space she was attempting to stand up in. Her mouth hung open, words desperately trying to escape but fated to remain inside her mouth. That's when he brought both clawed hands to her shoulders and pressed her back down into the seated position on the couch. It wasn't rough nor did he expel his strength to do so. Because of that, she was able to push against his hold and attempt to stand once more. It was then that he decided to toss patience away as he forcefully grabbed her arms and slammed back, pinning her against the back cushion of the couch. He towered over her, his body arching as he now found himself partially on the couch in hopes of keeping her cemented against the cushions with his own presence. A haze of smoke began to form around Reaper, perhaps signifying his rage to the situation. Mercy stared up at him, a bit timid now that she had irked him to this point. Although she had been certain about her actions, she wasn't so confident any longer. Judging by the wavering grasp on her arms, it seemed he was questioning himself as well.

"What does Talon know about me and the other operatives?"

"Talon doesn't know shit."

"…then how can you—"

"If you won't shut up, I'll kill you myself."

"No, you won't."

At this, Reaper shifted his hold on her, his hands now ringing around her wrists and pinning them against the wall the couch laid against. He was able to pin both dainty wrists in one of his larger hands, the other now manifesting a gun from the shadows. Mercy didn't seem to flinch an inch, not even when he aimed it toward the bandages and gauze.

"If I shoot here, you'll die. There won't be any time for your Caduceus Staff to repair you. If you lose a single drop more of blood, you'll need a transfusion."

"Then it's a good thing you won't do it."

"And why is that, Doc?" Reaper called out bitterly, his head tilting in an ominous fashion that sent a chill down the blonde woman's spine.

"Because you don't want to, otherwise you would have disposed of me long before this point. You had me under the knife. I know the sort of damage one can do to the human body if they are not careful. While your methods are not ethical…you had been dutiful in removing the bullet all the same with minimal pain for me. You wouldn't work so hard for me to not suffer only to kill me now. I'm simply snagged up on the reasoning."

Her word hung in the dense air, as if the sound of her voice was enough to bring the house down. They remained in that position, Mercy writhing idly into the pillows while Reaper dominantly held her down. Their eyes were locked in a stare down, or at least she assumed they were since she could not properly see where his eyes were resting. A moment more of this stalemate and Reaper carelessly released the gun in his free hand.

"You're right, I wanted you to survive."

"Wha—" Mercy mouthed wordlessly but she was quickly silenced by that metallic hand against her throat.

"I want you to get back to full health so that I may take my time breaking you down, piece by piece, until you are nothing more than a husk. If you were to have died, it would not have been by my hand, and you _will_ die by my hand." Reaper's voice was picking up volume as he spoke, a snowball effect evident as his emotions began to rise along with the billowing smoke which surrounded him. "You say I'm a monster? You created this monster, Doc."

While his hand hadn't been pressing hard enough to constrict air flow, Mercy had been wincing in pain the entire time. Reaper didn't seem fazed by this until a gentle whimper finally broke from her pressed lips. Almost instantly he released both his hands and remained frozen above her body, as still as a statue. She rubbed at her wrists and neck tenderly, eyeing him with incertitude.

"…I…created you?" She asked meekly, eyes enlarged due to the new fear gripping her mind.

"…go to sleep, Doc." The distorted voice replied, his tone almost tired and wary. What did he mean by those words? Knowing now that she might be responsible for the catastrophe that is the assassin Reaper, a knot formed in the depths of Mercy's heart, weighing down her spirit like an anchor.

"…who are you, Reaper?" Mercy spoke gently, her words just barely above a whisper. Brilliant blue orbs continued to gaze into the cowl of his hood, as if the mask might give way to emotions, to expression. Without her consent, a lithe hand rose up, hoping to cradle the cheek of the man who both saved her life and vowed to destroy it. He remained still, and she could tell he was holding his breath in anticipation to the touch. Just as the pads to her fingertips graced the harsh white of his mask, he pulled back entirely and began to retreat further into the house, leaving Mercy alone with her thoughts.


	4. Escape

By the time Reaper had skulked off into the home, Mercy would guess it was early evening. While it had been night time when she was in King's Row, they had traveled vast distances to where they were now. It made sense that they crossed a couple time zones along the way. Time passed and she noticed the man never returned to the cozy living room. It gave her time to reflect on the situation and the appropriate actions she needed to take from here. Specifically, she couldn't stay still for long.

Mercy was meant to be bound for Watchpoint: Gibraltar. Those around her had no idea where she was traveling to, save for Tracer and at least Winston. They both knew she'd heed the recall, and Tracer had witnessed the blonde doctor's attempt to get to the old facility before their reunion was interrupted. At least one of the Overwatch agents would be searching for her considering the company she was last seen with and is still currently stuck with. It was a comforting thought, but the ideal did not settle well with her. If they were to come, they'd play into a foul trap. Reaper had been known to be a systemic murderer of Overwatch operatives. Why she was still alive was beyond her grasp, despite the fact he had voiced delight in killing her himself. The point remains; she had to escape here before the others could track her down, or risk their lives in the process. The idea of her companions dying in her name left a bitter aftertaste that reminded her of the days in the past.

Alone in the dimly lit living room, Mercy curled in on herself and attempted to get comfortable on the couch as she reminisced on days gone by. The days where the original members of Overwatch ran through the halls of the Swiss Headquarters like little school children on a playground. Back when she never had to endure any hardship alone because she was always surrounded with good company. Ana, Jack, even _Reyes_. Her mind faltered a moment as she recalled her closest friends. She had been smitten with them, adoring their camaraderie and the fond memories they all created together. The day that she had met Agent Jack Morrison and Agent Gabriel Reyes was one she could never forget. While they were both stoic figures, they seemed like opposites but somehow they melded so well together as friends. It was after a rigid, formal meeting within the Swiss Headquarters that the three of them started to spend more time together, along with Ana who had arrived shortly after.

Although Mercy held her reservations about their militaristic stances, they otherwise got along well. All of them did, for a time. The fleeting memory of 'promotion day' entered her mind, causing her to grip to the pillow she had subconsciously clutched onto in an even tighter hold. That was when everything went downhill for their tight-knit group. Moreover, it was what partially led to the end of Overwatch. Animosity grew between Jack and Reyes, one that neither could overcome alone. The two were too heated to see reason, to understand the strife the other was enduring. Mercy had done everything in her power to veer the course of destiny, to help bridge the growing gap between the two brothers in arms. Yet, nothing seemed to work.

Part of her had felt that she was starting to get leverage between the men, but that was when the devastating attack on Headquarters occurred. The blast obliterated any evidence of who may have instigated the fight first, or who was responsible for the initial explosion. It didn't matter in the end, as the facility was reduced to rubble, leaving her without bodies to bury to those that left her behind. Ana had disappeared, never to be heard from again while both Jack and Reyes were presumed dead. On paper, their bodies were never discovered, papers that held first hand reports from the doctor herself. Reports she partially fabricated, a fact that she could only ever admit to herself.

Mercy had fought the flames and gusts of smoke in an attempt to snuff out her closest companions. While she had been in the Swiss Headquarters for the United Nation's investigation, she was fortunate not to be in the wing that the first explosion began in. She was close to both Jack and Reyes; she knew the assault was the result of their quarrel coming to a fatal end. They all knew it would end in catastrophe, but Mercy had hoped for a happy ending somewhere in the wreckage. She had donned her Valkyrie suit and Caduceus Staff, her eyes gleaming as a beacon of hope while she sifted through the rubble. After some time had passed, she found a single arm extended from a collapsed interior wall. She didn't even have to bury more of his body out to recognize the form of Gabriel Reyes. Recalling the blood-curdling scream she released as she unearthed him still sent goose bumps over her skin. For over an hour she had tried to resuscitate his body, through soot and heat and unbearable conditions, she remained at his side until her own body began to seize up from exhaustion and smoke inhalation. Risking her life was something she'd have done again and again, without question, if it meant potentially saving his life. She would have kept going for hours more as well if not for another explosion being set off, causing her to retreat for the time being. By the time she returned the following day, there was no sign of either men nor of the fact she had failed in bringing back Reyes.

The information was non-essential to the United Nations. If they had known there was a chance either had survived, perhaps a full-fledged manhunt would have been conducted. Mercy couldn't ever allow that, the idea itself caused her stomach to lurch painfully. There was no way either could have survived that inferno, and she wanted to make her peace with the tragedy. For the sake of her friends' memories, their tale needed to be put to rest so that the world could move forward; so that she could move forward. A quiet scoff escaped her lips as did an incredulous choke. She was breathing out her emotions into the pillow, face now buried into the plush fabric. So many were taken from her due to the havoc of war and taint of militaristic tactics, and she couldn't bear the thought of losing a single person more.

On that thought, she had begun to drift asleep, her mind still dwelling on the glory days spent with their newly assembled team. Her resting mind brought back pleasant memories, things she could recall with some fondness. The day Genji was brought to her, barely recognizable as a corpse but still fighting to grip to life. He had survived, but at the cost of most of his physical body. They were close, she and Genji, and it had brought her great worry when he had left Overwatch to pursue a personal journey, one that she had an unspoken understanding of. Then was the time Jesse McCree fell under Reyes' tutelage. It had never been a dull moment when the renegade gunslinger was around. He always found a way to flirt with her whenever his teacher was around, much to Reyes' frustration. Part of her wondered if he only did it because of Reyes, considering that McCree never actively pursued her at any given time. In fact, not many did, but the two formidable men that were always stationed at her side likely drove off any and all possible suitors. Not that Mercy had minded much, she never had time for relationships anyway. The love with her laboratory was more than a full-time position she had to focus on anyway.

It was as her mind faded on the scenery of Zürich that she stirred awake. With a groggy moan, she sat up and glanced around at her surroundings; it was completely dark, not a light on within the house. Reaper must have come by to hit the lights sometime after she had fallen asleep. Curiously, Mercy hoisted her baggy shirt up to take a glance at the bandage work from the incision. It hadn't bled through the gauze, which was a very good thing. She would have to monitor it, but Reaper had been right; another blow of any kind might knock her down for good. That brought up a good point from before. What was she to do now? Going off of her reasoning from before, there was truly only one apt choice for her to take. With silent footfalls, Mercy had managed to find a black hoodie and slipped it on, but not without grabbing her Caduceus Staff. It was before dawn, this would be the best time to slip off and find a vessel traveling over Watchpoint: Gibraltar. Soon, she'd be reconvening with her old companions, but in order to make that a reality she would have to hurry. While the metal suitcase with her clothes along with her Caduceus Blaster was both somewhere in King's Row, she had managed to stuff the Valkyrie suit into a nearby backpack. She made a mental not to visit England to retrieve her belongings, but it would wait until she was back at the old facility.

Without another word, she slipped out of the rustic home and ventured off into the bleak hours before daybreak. The cotton hood of the jacket she wore was flipped upright, hopefully a deterrent for any who might be searching for her. From the outside, the home did seem quite cozy, emitting a certain warmth that did not remind her at all of Reaper. He must have murdered the family that once lived there. The thought was a repulsive one, but likely an apt deduction. With a pair of flip flops that she had found in the entryway, Mercy began to tear off into the narrow alleyways in hopes of staying as nondescript as possible. About fifteen minutes had passed of her traveling through the questionable parts of what she recognized now as Dorado. It had been a long time since she had visited this part of the world, but she recalled a few major landmarks, which would be enough to get her to a trustworthy part of civilization. The cartel had grown since the days of the last Omnic Crisis, so she would still have to keep her wits about her. Like it or not, she was still a foreigner in these parts, one that some of the more unsavory natives would be more than willing to extort. The sound of her sandals scrapping against the grainy road was the last thing Mercy heard when she rounded a corner, only to find herself staring up at a much taller man. He was dark-skinned, clearly a native judging from his features. In fact, the tattoos were also a keen indicator that he was also a part of that unsavory bunch she had been trying so hard to avoid.

"Well, well, look what we got here. You lost, little lamb?" He called out condescendingly to Mercy in his thick Spanish accent, causing her to take an uneasy step back. As she did, she realized two other men starting to surround her, one from the opposite side as the first man while the other approached from behind her. Her eyes flickered, assessing the situation before shifting back to the main goon.

"I know exactly where I am and where I am meaning to go, step aside."

"Oho? What's this? Shit, I thought you might have been an American, but you're definitely not from this side of the world with that accent. What is that, French? Russian?"

"Let me pass, now." Mercy called out, attempting to walk around the man but he stepped in her way, causing her to release a frustrated sigh.

"Nah, don't think I'm gonna do that, _chica_. Y'see, I think I know a guy who might like your company. C'mon, you've got nothing going on." He insisted, raising his arms in a non-threatening tone, though Mercy was cleverer than that. She was not a stock woman with average intelligence. Men like these could not be trusted or relied upon. It only set off her internal alarms even more.

" _Scheißkerl…_ _"_

 _"_ Hey, what did you just say, _puta_? Huh?!" The man then grabbed a hold of Mercy by her shoulders. His hold wasn't firm enough and she was able to wretch one arm away enough to knock her elbow into the nose of her assailant, earning a loud curse in Spanish. She spun on her heels and maneuvered around the stunned thug and began to race into a large opening in the city square. There was a large fountain in the center as well as several different pavilions that had yet to open up for business yet. In the large clearing, Mercy could see the first breath of light escape the horizon. It was almost morning, and she needed to hurry. A strong grip on her backpack sent her flying backward, causing all her hopes to drop completely.

"Gotcha!"

"Let go—!" She cried out loudly, about to slam her Caduceus Staff into his stomach. The fist against her cheekbone caused her to reel back, her body crumpling to the floor from the sheer strength that was in the punch. She gripped her jaw painfully and glanced up at the towering man, eyes wide as she realized the dull ache in her side. At this rate, she'd have internal hemorrhaging, and there would be no way she could heal herself in time to counter any major damage. As if solidifying the sentiment that she could not take this lightly anymore, the man yanked out a single pistol from inside his belt, cocking back the gun and aiming the sights at her head.

"Any last words, _puta_?" The man spoke to her with a sneer, as if he wouldn't even honor the wish if she had some words to say. While she wasn't ready to admit the severity of the situation, it didn't change the fact that she was staring up the barrel of a loaded pistol. Her mouth slackened as she wanted to say something, anything that might buy her a little time to make a getaway. No words came, but none were needed as she saw the gunman take half a step back, eyes fixed upon Mercy with newfound terror. No, they weren't quite on her. There had been enough light from the sun to see the impending shade of death swirl around her body in a near-protective manner. The words that were spoken next were not her final parting words, but a battle cry for death incarnate.

" _Die_."


	5. Mercy

The plume of black death surrounded them, blotting out the cracks of daylight from their field of vision. The air was filled with dread, a looming sense of danger as Reaper's body began to physically manifest from the haze. With those intimidating measured steps, he moved between Mercy and the cartel members. The Spanish natives stared on at his imposing form, becoming irritated at his imposing stature. Mercy could only gaze on in fear. She knew that look, that posture he held. Sapphire eyes flickered to his hands to see the favored guns clutched tightly in his palms, his grip unbearably tight on the handles. These men may have hassled her a great deal, but she didn't want them to die for their aggression. Panic began to set into her mind, leaving the doctor to frantically scramble to her feet as the deathly apparition glided ever closer to the thugs.

"The fuck are you supposed to be? _El bromista_?" The leader of the trio barked out to Reaper, his eyes scanning his form inquisitively and with scorn. The black-cloaked man stopped in his tracks just then, also sizing up the three men before him. They weren't intimidating at all, though Mercy had been outnumbered. On a good day, she likely would have wiped the floor with them, but they had numbers on her and she was still nursing a bullet wound. After a moment of pause, Reaper glanced over his shoulder to see Mercy clinging to her Caduceus Staff for support, clearly frazzled at what was to become of the three men. It didn't matter how she'd feel about it. They needed to die in Reaper's mind. Their mistake was ever touching the blonde doctor.

"What? Don't you understand Spanish, _monstruo_?"

" _Tu muerte_." Reaper replied sinisterly, surprising Mercy with the thick Spanish tone he took on. Even with the distortion in his voice, he sounded daunting.

"Ooh, that right? You're gonna kill us? I'd like to see you try!"

With a shift in his posture, Reaper raised the guns he held in both hands and positioned his trigger finger. If they were begging for death, who was he to deny such scum? It would be his pleasure to run the streets of Dorado red with such low lives. With his elbows locked in place, he braced himself for the recoil of the first shot. That was, until a frail form had wrapped her arms around his right arm. This caused him to falter completely, gazing over at the woman in complete shock. Although he attempted to wriggle his arm free, her embrace of his arm was formidable.

"Stop, please…don't kill them." Mercy practically begged in a sorrowful whisper, words only meant for Reaper's ears. She doubted he'd honor her wishes, but it was always worth a try. At this close distance, he'd be able to feel the hum of her heartbeat against his arm, and she'd be able to peer up more intimately into his cowl. It felt like a more genuine connection now that they were forced to stare at each other. Mercy's face began to twist in agony, one hand gripping her side. This caused Reaper to tilt his head to her midriff, watching as she applied delicate pressure to the wound. Their heads eventually lifted so they could stare at each other once more.

"Don't do this, Reaper…"

"Do you even know what they wanted to do to you?"

"It doesn't matter—"

"How does that not _matter_ to you?"

"I'm safe, unharmed—"

"He fuckin' punched you."

"…I'm otherwise unharmed." Mercy spoke feebly, doing her best to plea the case of the cartel members who clearly did not know what they were getting themselves into. Reaper held his stare in silence for a long time, as if actually debating his actions. The thugs continued to stand in place, not that they could run away from the dense miasma of darkness. As the silence became unbearable, Mercy squeezed her eyes shut and lowered her head, allowing it to rest gingerly against his upper arm.

" _Please_." She whimpered out so softly, as if she would break if he chose any other course of action. She was straining herself just to save this scum. It spurred more toxic emotions within Reaper. These men were not worth her suffering. They were far beneath her and yet she was desperately trying to buy their lives off with her delicate voice. Without even realizing it, Reaper had begun lowering his other poised arm but still held onto the gun.

"Fine." He breathed out through clenched teeth, his words leaving Mercy to whip her head up and gaze with wonder at his mask.

"Hah! Look at that! He's just a little bitch, like her!" The main man called out, looking a bit more confident now that Reaper had the guns off of them. That's when the thug quickly aimed his pistol and fired it before either of them could respond. Aside from Mercy's yelp of surprise, there had been no cries of pain.

"Did you miss?" One of the lackeys inquired curiously.

"Of course I didn't miss, I shot him right there—" The man insisted, gesturing to Reaper's chest. It was as he inspected the cloaked figure's body that he noticed the lack of a bullet hole. He sneered and aimed again, this time Reaper shoved Mercy away a fair distance. With another shot, the bullet passed through his body with an ethereal, black puff. The goon grew anxious at the revelation that his gun was useless against Reaper. Methodical steps echoed in the small space as Reaper approached the leader, malice in his stride. He was taller than the thug, who was still quite a bit taller than Mercy still. Tossing his black guns aside, Reaper gripped the wrist of the thug's gun hand and squeezed, causing him to drop the pistol with a cry of pain. It was surreal to see Reaper use physical force considering he was such a gunslinger. At least, it was odd in Mercy's eyes. Despite this, he seemed more than efficient at disarming without any weapons needed.

"H-Hey man, okay! We cool! Just, let go and we'll back off— _oof_!" The cartel member began to beg before a clawed fist met his face. Blood immediately dribbled out of his mouth and nose, the metal armor on Reaper's hand cutting into the flesh as he had hit him.

"Leave us.. _._ " Reaper viciously remarked as he tightened the grip on the wrist, causing another squeal from the cartel member. Leaning in close, his next words were steeped with restrained hate. "You live by her mercy only…now go."

With that, the smog of darkness began to thin out, revealing the colorful morning sky stretch out around them. Now that they were officially excused, all three turned on their heels and peeled off into the alleyway they had just come from, distressed from the ordeal they barely survived. As they retreated, the main man glanced over his shoulder and bellowed over at Reaper with a parting yelp.

" _La Mujer Lechuza_!" Echoed off in the distance, disappearing just as the three thugs vanished from sight. Now that the threat of the cartel had vanished, Mercy glanced over at the seething man beside her. She had run off on him in hopes of escaping, but it turns out that he saved her from a bad situation in the end. Guilt nagged at her mind, though she reasoned it wasn't worth focusing on. He had said he planned on killing her, what choice did she have? Yet, he came to her aid, and he even had respected her wishes of not killing them. A solemn expression fell upon her features at the realization.

"Er…Reaper, I am sor—"

"Breakfast."

"W-What was that?"

"You haven't eaten at all since we've partied up," he pointed out in a matter of fact tone, turning to face her fully now. "You're still recovering. I have no doubts you can survive off of your stubborn spirit alone, but you're still human. You need to eat."

Now that he had mentioned it, she hadn't realized her own hunger. Getting caught up in the events of the last day left her with little time to worry about minor necessities. The doctor shifted in place, fidgeting a bit as she digested his words.

"I suppose I haven't eaten, no."

"Then come here." Reaper replied simply, gesturing her over to his side. After a moment, she tucked a loose lock of gold behind her ear—when did her ponytail start to slack?—and ventured over to him. There was some apprehension to her posture, evident in the way that she warily glanced at him. Deciding not to be bothered by it, Reaper wrapped an arm around Mercy's waist and tugged her closer against his chest.

"What're you—" Before she could get the words out, darkness had consumed the pair once more. While she had promised to gaze into the abyss they traveled in if she had the opportunity again, she was stunned by the sudden travel and it seemed they were only inside the murky depths for just a blink of time. By the time she gathered her bearings and opened her eyes back open, she noticed they stood before the small home she was becoming familiar with.

"I won't have you strain yourself…I'm not going to patch you up again if that breaks open." Reaper spoke plainly, gesturing to her wound before entering the home before her. Mercy furrowed her brows and felt a bubbling frustration rise in her chest.

"Fine, I can patch myself up anyway."

"Doctors are terrible patients."

"What was that?"

"Hurry up before I lock you out." Reaper's voice held far less gruff than it had before. In fact, the statement was a satirical one either. He almost sounded pleased, as if humored by the banter between them. Mercy gawked a bit at him, clearly thrown off guard by that. As if giving up on her, he began to shut the door on her, which led the blonde doctor to race over.

"A-Alright, I'm right here!" She protested loudly, slipping inside just as Reaper was about to shut the door. When she stepped over the threshold, the cloaked figure pushed Mercy backward, causing the woman's spine to press up against the smooth wooden grains of the door as he had shut it. From within the dimly lit entryway, Mercy did her best to gauge Reaper. From this position, he had caged her with both his arms on either side, leaving her with nowhere to turn. She was left to bit her lower lip in timorous thought.

"The day I kill you is not now, nor anytime soon. I want you to stare into my eyes in your last moments and know just why it is I am killing you. For now, what I want is for you to heal up and get out of my way. Act like this ordeal never happened."

"T-Tell me now, why are you wanting to kill me? You must be targeting me out of a peculiar hate you have for Overwatch, but there is a personal vendetta as well." With uncertainty, Mercy lifted her hands and reached forward, one hand resting against Reaper's shoulder while the other found the side of his startling cool mask. This time, he didn't wretch away from her grasp; he simply stood still, holding the position as her fingertips explored the smooth surface of his visage.

"It's just the way it is, Doc. If I told you, I'd have to kill you."

"You're going to kill me either way; I should be able to garner some information as to why I deserve such a premature death."

"…not now." Reaper finally breathed out after a minutes of what she hoped to be contemplation. At this point her palm had pressing into the cheek of the mask, the chilled surface adding to his deathly appearance. Everything about him was cold, bitter even. Yet, he still had some warmth deep down in there if he decided to save her from the gunshot wound, not to mention allowing those goons to live. Was there a beating heart beneath the layers of leather after all? Perhaps he could be reasoned with after all. That still didn't excuse him from his previous acts of terrorism, but it let Mercy know he wasn't a complete monster.

"Go to the living room and wait on the couch, I'll grab you something."

"As long as it isn't tequila." She replied in a haughty fashion, a hint of playfulness in her tone that startled her. Reaper must have picked up on it because he was quick to lean in closer. Mercy pressed herself against the door as much as she could, but she was already backed up as far as she could go. There was no escaping the man who loomed over her, his face drawing near hers.

"It becomes sweet nectar in your mouth if you give it a couple tastes." He breathed out, voice heavy against her ears as the words flowed out like melted honey. Mercy could not help but shudder in place, eyes widening. She hadn't meant to sound so coy, but his tone could not be confused with anything else. In this moment, she was certain that he was flirting with her. She had instigated it unknowingly, which left her to gulp away her anxiety and peer at Reaper. With little effort, the masked man had pushed himself off the door and began to travel into the home, a dark chortle escaping his lips.

"Lay down while I fetch some food, you look like you're breaking out into a fever, Doc." Reaper called over his shoulder as he rounded the corner for the kitchen. Curious at his words, Mercy wandered over to a nearby mirror on the wall, gazing at her reflection. A silent gasp escaped her lips as she saw the scarlet color burn across her creamy complexion. She had been burning up alright, but it wasn't from her bullet wound. It was from him; he caused her to fluster and unconsciously left her breathless. No, this was wrong; she needed to keep her head screwed on straight and focus. As she wandered back to the living room, she plopped down on the couch and began contemplating her motives as she idly recalled the smug sound of a smile in his voice.


	6. Pillow Talk

It had been two full days since the pathetic excuse of an escape plan failed. Oddly enough, Mercy was finding herself feeling less isolated than before. That might have been because Reaper wasn't overtly steering clear of her. They were falling into a routine of waking up—though he slept elsewhere in the home, likely an actual bedroom—and keeping each other busy. She wondered if he was pitying her, or maybe it was his own way of keeping a more watchful eye on the blonde doctor. To be fair, she was still contemplating a second go around of escape, so he'd be justified in chaperoning her daily activities.

Over the course of the last two days, Mercy managed to hem her body suit with a spare needle and thread she had found. The stitching was crimson, but it was all that she could find so it would do for now. She had also taken up reading in her spare time, but that also meant learning the Spanish language. While she was certain Reaper knew the language, she decided not to ask him about it. Part of her worried he might teach her a few phrases she ought not know. Reaper had been decidedly kind and managed to retrieve the briefcase and Caduceus Blaster from King's Row the day before too. It seemed to surprise him just how jubilant Mercy was upon seeing her belongings returned. The doctor made a mental note of this as he turned his back to her upon seeing the smile bloom on her lips.

Currently, the two sat in the living room minding their own business. They fell into this strange, comfortable silence where they could freely do as they pleased independently and without bothering the other. There was an exchange of words here and there, but otherwise it was peaceful. Neither had spoken about the flirting incident, so Mercy assumed it was an accident. Something she could easily shrug off. Well, she _should_ , but her mind could not help but wander back to the moment he leaned in and taunted her. Even now, as she was calibrating the Valkyrie suit on the coffee table between the couch she sat on and the rocking chair Reaper occupied; Her mind was wandering into dangerous territory, places where it had no business being.

"Something wrong?"

"Huh?" Mercy perked up finally, blinking at the man across the room. She quickly shook her head, the tousled hair of her updo swishing back and forth girlishly. Reaper had been cleaning his pair of guns with a cloth, taking the mechanisms apart before reassembling them with masterful ease and efficiency. The man tilted his head at her, making her stutter as she realized she hadn't answered him.

"O-Oh, nothing…just lost in thought…"

"Right."

"I'm almost fully healed…and I don't mean by my biased standards either. In my professional opinion, I should be safe to travel on my own in the next day or so."

"…I see."

"I'll be quick to get out of your hair as soon as I'm ready…do you have hair under there?"

"That's none of your concern, Doc."

"That leads me to believe that you don't." She chirped back in response, becoming more sociable with the man in the few days they've spent together. Reaper tilted his head and she could have sworn he was glaring at her. Even without seeing his expressions, she could tell by body language alone how he was feeling, and sometimes she could hear the emotions in his voice too.

"It'll please you far too much if you knew."

"There are a lot of things that would please me if I knew." She mumbled idly, setting aside the tools for the Valkyrie unit and picking up a nearby book she had been reading. Reaper eyed her suspiciously, head tilting again.

"That's a dictionary."

"A Spanish-English dictionary, to be exact."

"How boring can you be?"

"Pot, meet kettle."

"Fine, have fun sounding like a two year old." Reaper spoke dismissively, returning to his guns. He grabbed hold of the one that had been resting on the table beside Mercy's suit and gave it a powerful flick, causing the gears to click in place. After inspecting it, he set it in his lap and worked on the second one. Mercy peered over curiously as he dove into the task, admittedly enjoying seeing the psychopath doing something that wasn't vile or an act against humanity. That's when a yawn escaped Mercy's mouth, betray her guise of being lively.

"Lay down, I'll stay quiet."

"I'm at a good part in my novel and simply can't set it down now. I find out who shot the main character's father!"

"It'll be there when you wake up, now go change and rest so you can 'get out of my hair' as quick as possible." Reaper reprimanded her, giving a dismissive flourish of his wrist as he motioned her toward the hallway bathroom. Since retrieving her belongings, Mercy had taken to dressing in her own clothes, though she still wore those shorts and shirt when she slept. With a sigh, the blond woman bounced to her feet and made her way down the hall. A few minutes passed and she returned to the couch in her unconventional sleep wear. Reaper continued to polish away at his guns, remaining focused on the task ahead of him. With a shrug, the doctor wandered over to the couch and lay down, curling up so her back was to the man.

Her mind had been racing all over the place lately, but somehow sleep found her with ease. She was rather grateful for the slumber. The wound was healing up just fine thanks to her Caduceus Staff, but she still needed to be mindful of her limits. As such, if her body was craving a nap, she needed to listen and obey.

The maw of darkness opened up around her, revealing to her dreaming state a land of rich greenery and rolling hills leading to the mountains. She recognized this scenery. This was definitely Z _ü_ rich. Mercy glanced around, inspecting the breathless sights she could remember. The doctor began taking a few uneasy steps forward, hesitant of what she'll find from this memory. Upon further inspection, she realized she donned her pristine lab coat, the glossy name badge fastened near the lapel. She had been so proud to receive the tag, no matter how trivial it seemed. Despite the disputes she had with her supervisors, they still recognized her talents and promoted her to Chief Medical Officer of the Swiss Headquarters during those golden days gone by.

The breeze had been warm, caressing the blonde tufts of her hair as it passed. It was pleasant, as if the horrors hadn't happened. That's when a powerful gust picked up, causing the tails of her lab coat to slap against her legs. The wind ushered in from behind, threatening to tip her forward against the grass. She spun on her heels and gazed upon the sight that always seemed to haunt her mind. It was the Swiss Headquarters, engulfed in a conflagration of flames. The abyss of embers seemed to grow the longer she stared upon the building. The same tightness as the day this happened returned, constricting her chest.

"N-No—!" Mercy breathlessly yelped, running forward into the hellfire in the hopes of finding life among the dead. She ran for what felt like hours, screaming for anyone until her voice gave out. Around and around, she raced through the wreckage as quick as she could. In the dream, she hadn't access to her Valkyrie suit, so she was stuck on foot for the time being. While she primarily called for anyone, she had thrown in the names of her closest companions as well. Maybe this would be her chance to become vindicated, perhaps now she could be redeemed and save the lives of Morrison and Reyes. This would be the time to prove herself as their friend. She needed to save them this time around. That's when a nearby wall had suddenly crumbled beside her, catching the woman off guard. She didn't have the speed of her suit to get away, and she was left to stare in horror as the large wall began to envelope her. A cry of misery escaped her lips as the wall collapsed, jostling her back awake with a start.

"Hey! Look at me!" The familiar, gruff distortion of Reaper's voice called to her, catching her attention. Her vision had been hazy still as it adjusted from the bright light of the embers to the ambient glow of the snug living room. Slowly, her eyes narrowed over to the man who was currently hovering over her, hands gripping firmly to her shoulders to help wake her. The breath she didn't know she was holding came out in a ragged puff.

"I-I…sorry…" She gasped out, frantically glancing around as she adjusted to the real world after that vivid vision.

"You began thrashing around."

"…sorry."

"Scoot over." Reaper ordered in a firm tone, not leaving any space for Mercy to protest. Not that she could with how much she was reeling from the nightmare. A gentle nod came from the woman as she slipped into a seated position on the couch furthest end, watching cautiously as Reaper fell upon the center cushion with a quiet plop. Mercy seemed to fidget in place, her eyes focused on the floor as the man made his presence known by clearing his throat.

"Go ahead."

"What?"

"Your mind is heavy, you won't be going back to sleep any time soon without addressing it. Say your piece now or keep it to yourself."

"It's…personal." Mercy finally breathed out, playing idly with her powder blonde hair that hung lazily from the top of her head. Reaper remained still, his gaze unwavering as he watched her process her emotions. She needed to decide how to talk about it without getting too in-depth. She didn't want to rely on this man more than she needed, but he had been right; she was distressed from the corrupted dream. As much as she wanted to deal with it on her own, she knew that it was easier said than done for this. After all, mental health was just as important as physical.

"…I was reliving the worst day of my life."

"Sounds dramatic."

"Everyone I had ever loved had died or otherwise abandoned me…"

"…oh."

"You might be familiar with the event…it was when the Swiss Headquarters for Overwatch had been obliterated. It was the direct result of a fight growing out of control between two of the dearest people I cherished." She paused, biting her lower lip to stop it from quivering. "I'm partially responsible for that day. I should have done more to bring the two together again. If I was more stubborn, or perhaps more persistent with them, they'd have mended their bond and the facility would still be standing. That way, my friends would be alive and I wouldn't have tried in vain to find them in the rapture of flames—"

"Stop."

"It was my fault…! I didn't try hard enough! I should have—" Mercy began rambling, her tone growing wild with her emotions. She finally glanced up to Reaper, her voice silenced upon feeling a metallic hand brush past her cheek. Once he and wiped it carefully against her tender flesh, he pulled it back just enough for her to see the smear of tears along the claw of his finger. Her voice was caught in her throat as she stared down in disbelief.

"Stop crying." He replied again, the rumbling voice lower than before.

"…it wasn't intentional."

"You keep blaming yourself too. Stop that as well."

"Why? They were my _friends_ and I failed them."

"You didn't fail them, Doc. They were grown ass men, they knew what they were about. It was an inevitable end, no matter what anyone tried to defuse the situation."

"…men."

"Men, yeah. What of it?" Reaper asked inquisitively, his posture suddenly tensing as Mercy clamored to her feet and reached for the Caduceus Blaster.

"I never said 'men'. You did." Mercy remarked with a fierce look in her eyes, the trail of anger and fear erupting in those icy blue hues. "Where did you hear that, your news channel?"

"Radio." Reaper replied flatly, slowly getting to his feet as she aimed her pistol at him.

"No, that's a lie. The United Nations would not have leaked personal information. It was known that the base was destroyed but to the public eye the truth was never revealed. It was claimed an 'accident'." Her grip tightened on the gun as she swallowed down the hard knot that began to form.

"You were an Overwatch agent, weren't you, Reaper?"

"…don't be ridiculous—"

"Halts maul!" Mercy exclaimed in her native tongue, emotions spiking at the way Reaper attempted to redirect her rage. "You were there, weren't you? Back when the old facility was around? That's how I know you, isn't it? Answer me, once and for all: Who the hell are you?"

"What are you going to do, Mercy?" Her inquired apathetically, taking a step toward the woman without hesitation despite the gun aimed at his chest. "You won't shoot me."

"And why do you say that?"

"Because," He began with a firm, unwavering tone, pausing only to reach over and place a hand on her wrist. Unlike the treatment he offered the thugs just days ago, the hold wasn't painful nor did he attempt to disarm her as he had those men. Mercy stared on, a swirl of emotions displayed on her face. "I don't think you want to."

"…don't use my own lines on me." Mercy stated quietly, contempt still present in her voice as she recognized the words she had spoken to Reaper days ago. The grip on the blaster had loosened some, but she was too stubborn to let go. The blonde doctor was willing to give others the benefit of the doubt, but how could she trust this? How could she ever begin to trust this?

"No."

"Mercy."

"Stop it."

" _Angela_."

"I said stop!" As she exclaimed the words, the pistol was gripped with renewed vigor. Without another second passing, Mercy felt her finger slip around the trigger and pull back. An earth-shattering blast was ignited, the sound of the shot firing along with the creak of the furniture filled the room. For a moment, the house was alive and cried out in dismay, the rustic home shuddering around the shot that was fired. Then, silence.


	7. Honesty

_Clack…clack…kachink…_

Piece by piece, polished white shards began to fumble to the floor from beneath the heavy cowl of the man. He had been standing still, but at least he was still standing. At the last moment, Reaper had jerked away Mercy's wrist in hopes of causing the shot to stray away. Her initial aim was toward his stomach, but it seemed both were not anticipating the shot to be fired. She had never been great with gun handling, but she partially blamed her high tensions for the accidental trigger pull. In the end, the blast was merely a glancing shot, but it was one he had taken in the face. With horror cast upon her face, Mercy practically threw the Caduceus Blaster aside and rushed forward, her hands reaching up and cupping for the face beneath the hood. He kept his head down, making it impossible for her to see his features. From what she could feel with her hands, there was no blood, and it appeared the mask took almost the entirety of the blast.

"…Reaper, I'm—"

"You fuckin' shot me."

"I know, I didn't mean to…it was an accident…a warning shot."

"This is why I'd never allow you to come along on missions…your aim is piss, you know that?"

"…I…suppose I was never a decent shot, but I never claimed I was." Mercy spoke after some hesitance, realizing now was the time; Reaper was divulging information to her by speaking so intimately about past events. Her mind raced with faces of who might be hiding behind the cowl, which ghost of her past was it that was hidden there. Then, all at once she went rigid. She had begun to take in account all the details of the past several days with whatever subtle clues she had fond.

"You're fluent in Spanish."

"…that I am." His voice replied quietly, the mask still crumbling apart to the floor. Although pieces were still intact, Mercy could distinctly hear just how much clearer his tone has become. It left her shivering in place.

"You were an Overwatch agent, yet for some reason you're out to kill us all…and you claim to know me somewhat personally, not to forget the fact that you were there the day Swiss Headquarters fell…the day Jack and—" She paused after those words, digesting the new emotions which rose to power. Anxiety, hope, _realization_. It was an overwhelming sense of elation and fear which forced her hand next. Slow at first, Mercy began running her thumbs against what shard remained of the mask, causing it to flake off at a fast rate. She remained silent and kept at this until the pads of her fingertips brushed against flesh. The skin was cool, just as the rest of him had been. It was as if he were a living corpse. Reluctantly, she held onto him a bit more firmly, terrified that her next words would cause him to disappear on her once again.

"… _Gabriel_?"

While her voice had been meek and wary, the way she cradled his face in her hands was anything but. Every fiber of her being sang out bittersweet symphonies at the possibility that the assumption may be correct. Bitter because if this was her former cohort, it would mean she was 'successful' in saving him, but the cost was far greater than she realized. Sweet because despite the harrowing events of the past, one of those precious people in her life managed to survive. He was real, here, right before her eyes. Her suspicions were confirmed when Reaper lifted his posture on his own accord. Broad shoulders rolled back and he twisted his neck to the side, a satisfying pop ringing out as the marred complexion of the olive-toned man was revealed. His eyes narrowed on Mercy's, those brown depths holding a hint of sanguine as he watched her reaction. All the while he allowed the hands to stay on her face, unable to shrug off the warm heat of her palms.

"That's not my name anymore."

"Oh… _mein gott in himmel_ …"

"That's not my name either."

"H-How? You died. I tried to resuscitate you but I failed—"

"You succeeded, Doc…don't know how, but you did." He replied in an even tone, eyes unwavering as he stared down the fragile looking doctor. The longer his eyes rested upon her, the weaker she started to feel. As if anticipating her reaction, Reyes reached over and grabbed her arms just as she was about to fall backwards to the far wall. She wanted to retreat but he wouldn't let her. As he kept her stationed in place, her hands quickly rose to her face and covered up the twisted agony displayed on her features.

"I-I had to leave, I nearly died from smoke inhalation and the scorching embers…h-how did you make it out of there alive?"

"You brought me back from the brink…no, not the brink. I had already passed over the edge when you ripped my soul back to my body. The pain of returning back to this hellish existence—"

"This is why you want to kill me." Mercy said softly, her words more of a statement than a question at this point.

"…yes."

"I did this to you…I caused you this pain and brought back the wrath inside your heart…y-you came back and you were alone with your destructive mental state."

"…I did not know this was your doing, not right away…but after time, I reasoned that there were no others that could have." He paused, giving her arms a gentle squeeze. "I didn't ask to come back; you should have left me to die, Angela. What the hell gave you the right to play the hand of God?"

At this, the man started to regret wording his statement as he had. He had plenty of pent up emotions on the issue, but seeing the scorn and misery flash across Mercy's features reminded him that he wasn't the only one affected by the fall of the Swiss Headquarters. While her distraught expression was fleeting, the hardened rage seemed everlasting.

"I did what anyone would have done—what you would have done for me if you had found my body in the rubble. If our roles had been reversed and you were in my shoes with the capability to possible save my life, are you telling me you wouldn't have?"

"You wouldn't have been in my position in a million years; you and Jack were on good terms."

"And so were you, once."

"Don't bring up that shit on me, Angela."

"Kill me."

"What?" Reyes flinched at the sudden outburst, gazing upon Angela as if she had grown a third arm. The doctor stood still, all emotion depleted from her face. She simply appeared spent, as if she no longer had anything left to give to the conversation.

"I forced this life upon you…you even said it yourself; you'd kill me as soon as I discovered the truth. I thought, 'Maybe I could fix whatever I did to scorn him', but that was childish of me. I can't undo my actions. While I never picked sides in that dispute between you and Jack, I didn't accomplish much by being a neutral party either." She had to lower her head in shame as the old emotions became too much to bear. If she saw the way he was staring at her, she knew she'd be in tears. "I failed Jack, but most of all, I failed you…and now I'm telling you; if you wish to kill me, go ahead and get it done because there is nothing you could say to make me regret the decision of breathing life back into you because I'll be _damned_ if I were to have left you there."

At this, Reyes began faltering in the face of her raw emotions. It was evident that Mercy had unresolved strife from those past events. Somehow, the man could feel his lips turn at her harsh vows. It was his turn to reach over and cup her cheeks and surprisingly she did not shy away from those cold, clawed hands.

"Stubborn then, stubborn now. You're a patron of the sick and defeated, yet you were also so feisty in your own way. I adore that about you, Ange." And there it was; the nickname reserved for Reyes' use only, falling from his lips so casually and as if they were picking back up where they had left off. There was hesitance in Angela's eyes, and he couldn't blame her.

"You've killed hundreds of people, Gabriel…"

"I'll kill hundreds more, too."

"Why? Stop this! The fight is done, the battle between you two is over!"

"…it's not that simple, Angela."

"What's not simple about deciding to not take lives?" A dainty hand rose and knocked away his hands from her face, his words not soothing her worrisome mind. "I didn't save you out of pity…I saved you because I wanted you to live…and I'll admit it to you now that I was so scared to be alone…that if I managed to save your life somehow, maybe my efforts to deter the fight wouldn't have been in vain."

"Listen to me right now, Ange. My name oozes with the blood of others; there is no redemption to be had with me. I'm an assassin, a mercenary if I decide my 'client' shares the same ideals as I do. What the hell would you ask of me?"

"To come _home_! To come back to _me_ , Gabe!" The petite blonde woman pleaded in resignation, her hands lowering to weave between the fingers of the man before her. The nickname she often dibbed did not go unnoticed either. It stung Reyes to see the look of defeat on her face. Even now, her eyes brimmed like an overflowing wave that was ready to crash over the shores of her cheeks. "To not take these dark emotions to the grave and beyond…to not squander the gift I was able to grant you with a second life… _mein gott,_ you must truly despise me."

"I…am trying hard to want to kill you," Reyes began, his eyes strained as he poured his eyes over her form as he articulated his problematic heart. "I don't know if I can any longer. Resentment was all I felt for this world, for you especially. It was easy for me to use you as the placeholder of my rage. It came so naturally. After your display, I don't know if I want to any longer."

"Wh-What? Why?" Mercy perked up, eyes glossed over and wide as the moon that rose into the sky outside.

"You might have become a better shot since I left and I only have one spare mask on me." He replied with a wiry grin, shoulder rising in a gentle shrug. Reyes hoped it would cause a smile to spark on her lips, bring about that boisterous life to her features that he often would stare at too long when they were younger. Even if they were of the opposite ends of the spectrum now, a part of him still wanted to see her smile and to smile in turn. Genuinely, for _her_ and only her. To his dismay, Angela crumpled forward and fell into his chest with a fit of tears, right between his open arms. Those black-covered arms wrapped around her lithe form and held on tight. For the first time since he could remember, Reyes embraced the weeping blonde doctor, nestling his face close to her crown so her could breathe in her scent as he had when escorting her to Dorado.

"Just…come _home_ , Gabriel…"

"That's not an option and you know it. Besides, there was more to your Frankenstein trick than you thought." He mentioned in passing, still not daring to pull away from the woman. Mercy hadn't attempted to wretch away either, so Reaper remained close while she wept out the years' worth of angst and frustration she had to endure quietly on her own. Still, Reaper wanted to be as transparent as possible now rather than drag it out longer than necessary. "My regenerated cells simultaneously decay and replenish at alarming rates. Although your technology had saved my life, it was still rough around the edges in those days."

"That…would make sense. After the rehabilitation process with Genji, I sought out to refine my nanobiology so that the host body could stay intact. I had been making strides back in those days, but nothing compared to my level of understanding now." She paused to consider the negative to his condition, frowning as she began to piece together his meaning. "You would need a constant source of energy to feed off of if that were the case…you are the equivalent of an overclocked super computer with a need for increased cooling."

"Yeah, that." Reaper replied with a sarcastic scoff, shrugging his shoulders as well in case she didn't understand how amusing he found her scientist side to be.

"What do you do—…oh no…"

"Don't you do this bullshit, Ange. Don't you dare carry the guilt of my actions."

"That's why the corpses were so mutilated and depleted of life…I could not understand the technology because it spawned from my own technology…I hadn't even thought to consider—"

"Listen to me, Angela!" Reaper barked out finally, pushing Mercy back just far enough so that she could gaze up into his stern features. "It's what I have to do to survive, but I've killed many innocents as well, so don't you fuckin' dare decide to wear a cone of shame or try to pretty up my motives."

"…what will happen now?" Mercy inquired politely, wiping away her wet cheeks while Reaper stiffened in place.

"The hell does that mean?"

"I mean," She faltered, the hands at her sides that were balled into tiny fists began to soften. "I mean what will we do?"

"Feh! Maybe you're still low on blood. There is no 'we', Ange. Once you're healed, we go our separate ways. That doesn't change."

"No, no, don't you dare say that."

"I fuckin' will say that because that's how it's gotta be. I killed my best goddamn friend and am continuing my hunt of Overwatch agents, not to mention I must continuously feed off of others for life."

"My nanobiology has improved since we last met! I've even implemented a regiment in my own body—"

"Christ, Ange."

"No, listen to me. The host body can remain unaffected by any adverse effects. I am constantly replenishing cells in a far more positive, efficient manner than you are without the need of artificial support from machinery such as Genji. Maybe I can heal your condition, fix whatever it is that's causing your body to—"

"You can't fix this." Reaper said flatly, as if not humoring her determined spirit.

"I can try!"

"And you will fail."

"Then at least I failed while giving a damn! I created this mess, it's my right to be the one to try to clean it up now." Her voice bellowed loudly as she stood adamant and proud before her old friend. Reaper stared at her for a long time, a worn expression perpetually glued to his face. After several long moments, the corners of his lips began to twitch with life. God, it was that smile that Mercy had missed the most. Devious, sincere, and perhaps a dash charming. It was the Gabriel only she was allowed to see when they were alone and free of their titles. No Blackwatch reports to debrief on, not medical charts to examine, and no Overwatch to bind them to their roles. They were liberated of their titles and they could just be themselves around each other. While Mercy was always true to her emotions no matter the company, Reyes always seemed mellower with her which was a stark comparison to his usual crass behavior.

"There you go again…you really haven't changed at all, Angela." His smooth, velvety tone remarked as he turned his back to her and wandered off. The blonde doctor blinked in surprise and watched as he disappeared into the kitchen. After hearing him rummage for a moment, his towering figure returned with two glasses in hand.

"What are those for?"

"Your favorite drink. We're gonna be playing a little game to catch up the lost time with each other while getting blasted. Unless you're that against damaging your liver." He moved toward the small coffee table and bent over, placing the cups delicately down as he turned back to face the petite woman. "You asked me 'what now'? This is my answer in lieu of a better one. Take it or leave it, Ange, because there isn't going to be a better olive branch from me."

The earth stood still as Mercy contemplated the ultimatum. There was a part of her that wanted to lash out more at him for all the atrocities he's been involved with thus far, but there was a deeper part of her that yearned for the man's company. Not the type of company they had the last few days. She didn't want to pass time with a stranger; she wanted to be near her friend again. The one who berated her and often instigated fights about her work ethics, the one who always walked her home without being asked after a late night at the lab, the one who never listened to anyone who wasn't Angela Ziegler. There were plenty of reasons why she should leave now, to drop whatever rekindled hope she has of Reyes and choose not to implicate herself further into this mess. Yet, her body moves by the will of her aching heart as she wanders over to the couch and picks up a glass that won't be empty for the remainder of the night.


	8. Drink

This was Reyes' game and Angela wasn't entirely certain if she was going to win. Was there a winner to be had? Between the two of them, the Blackwatch agent was far more competitive than her. If there were any end-conditions to this game, he surely would use everything in his arsenal to achieve victory. Then again, by the way he described the game, she'd gander it was a mutually beneficial game. That was rather surprising.

"So, just so we're clear; we take turns asking questions and the other person must either answer truthfully or take a drink?" Mercy had question curiously, looking attentive and eager to begin. They had both positioned themselves on the couch, Mercy sitting cross legged on one side while Reaper reclined back against the cushions with his legs stretched out.

"That simple."

"This should work in my favor then since I do not have anything to hide."

"First off, that's bullshit and you know it. Second off, you're also a lightweight so one drink on you is the equivalent of three on me. Thirdly, it's not about winning. We're two people, sitting around, drinking and conversing back and forth."

"You were the one to call it a game."

"It doesn't mean there's a specific winner. Sometimes getting plastered is being a winner enough. If only you'd pull yourself from your petri dishes and spent more time socializing on your weekends, then you'd have some experience with this." The man retorted with a scoff as he filled the two cups up with finger of liquor. "Here, grab your glass and I'll start us off with something easy: Why did you lie to the United Nations about what you did to me?"

"How did you know I omitted that from my reports?"

"Hey, it's my turn for questions, not yours." He quickly whipped back at her, furrowing his brows at her. From this distance, Mercy could clearly see the scars that marked his skin, particularly noting the vertical stretch of puckered skin that split his left eyebrow slightly. The scar curved when he had glared, a detail she was jotting down in her mind for some reason. Noting her lingering stare, Reaper cleared his throat. "Take a penalty shot, Ange."

"What?!"

"If I ask a question on your turn, you can call me out on it as well. C'mon, hurry up and get it over with so you can answer my question." He insisted, motioning his head to the glass in her hand. With a moment to grumble some unpleasant German under her breath, Mercy craned her head back and swallowed the liquor as quickly as possible. If her contorted expression was anything to go off of, she hadn't been quick enough.

"Disgusting."

"Your answer?"

"I wanted rest. I had to bury my two best friends without any support of those around me. I was isolated for the longest time after the Swiss Headquarters fell. I went about and continued to save those in need of my attention, but in the beginning I was in shambles and there was no one around to hold me up when my world crashed down. At first, I thought it was that everyone had blamed me for the events, but then I found out it was because the United Nations was keeping me under surveillance in case I had been withholding information on you two. On paper, it said the bodies were never recovered, but they knew I was at the scene and held a bias. There was no way they wouldn't keep tabs on me for a while afterward."

"See? It wasn't that hard. Your turn."

"…did you ever miss Overwatch? Even after all this time?"

"Hell no…I started a rebellion on my way out the door, Ange. I didn't exactly leave on good terms and it was my own decision that made it that way. You know that story though. Shit became too corrupt and Overwatch fell into oblivion before I had even done anything. I was simply a catalyst for the end, but its fate was spelled out before then."

"You know I would have protested with you for change in the divisions."

"Yeah, well, you would have protested on Jack's side too, Miss Switzerland, so it cancelled itself out." The mood suddenly dipped as he said those words. It reminded both of them of the conflict that brought about such death and destruction. In an attempt to clear the air of the heavy dread, Reaper cleared his throat while pouring Mercy's cup with tequila. "Did you ever meet anyone the years following the fall?"

"What kind of question is that?"

"You only get one warning, Ange. Do you really want to drink that badly?"

"…fine, I'll answer your immature question. I tried to date a year or so after the incident at the Swiss Headquarters. I spent a great deal of time with one man in particular but we fell out of touch. I was still grieving and he politely agreed to end things."

"I bet he wasn't a man enough to follow up with you to make sure you were doing fine. Scumbag didn't deserve someone like you."

"Are you jealous, Gabriel?"

"Are you fuckin' joking?"

"Drink." Mercy replied simply, now leaning back into the back cushions with a smug look on her face.

"…that's not fair."

"Drink."

"Fine, I'll take my fuckin' shot but that means I'm not answering the question."

"Oh, yes you are. If I did, so can you. That or you can take another shot." Mercy replied as she hung her legs off the edge of the couch, one leg swinging over the other. A dark grumble escaped his lips as Reaper considered his decision. It didn't take long for the man to swallow down the liquid in his glass and follow it up with a swig straight from the bottle. The blonde doctor quirked a brow at this while he refilled his glass.

"There, two shots. My question now: You don't need to tell me about the others or any precious information you think I might be hounding after, because right now I don't give a damn about any of that. What I want to know is what you plan on doing now that you know who I am?" There had been a long, drawn out pause after the question was posed. The dark irises of Reaper's eyes narrowed on those illustrious ocean blues of Mercy's, wondering what her answer would be.

"I…don't know. Not in the sense that I'm rejecting your answer, rather, I truly don't know…this all was so sudden. Where there are the injured and fallen, I will not be far behind in my Valkyrie suit. I will protect all those I love and those who cannot protect themselves. I've lost too much to war and violence to sit idly by and watch lives be claimed. If you are on the side that incurs death, then we'll have to clash again at some point. I only pray you are not."

Once again the mood shifted greatly, leaving the air thick with tension and unresolved conflict. It was obvious where Mercy stood on all of this, but what of Reaper? Even if the good doctor figured out a way to counteract the side effect, would the man consider ending the violence once and for all? It wasn't a question she could ask right now. Aside from the fact that it wasn't her turn, she knew he wouldn't have an answer for her. Or maybe it was that she feared what the answer might be. Noticing her tensed shoulders, Reaper sighed and knocked his elbow into hers.

"How about you pick a question that's not so heavy—"

"Do you regret killing Jack?"

"Fuck, Ange, what did I just fuckin' say—"

"I need you to respond to this before we continue…I asked, so you must either answer or drink. You decide. Then I promise it'll be smooth sailing from here." Mercy implored the man; the gaze that had been placed on him had grown desperate but still firm. It was important for her. If he regretted it, then perhaps he wasn't as hollow inside as she feared. Part of her wanted to hold onto those childhood romantic ideals where good always reined victorious over evil, and that no personal demons were too great to overcome. They studied each other for the longest time, neither budging in place. Then, Reaper curled his clawed hand around the bottle and threw his head back, taking in a larger amount of tequila than normal. He pulled the tip of the bottle away from his lips with a sigh.

"Looks like you're better at this game than I thought."

"Mm…I suppose." Mercy hummed out, a bit distracted as she wondered what drove him to drink instead of respond to the question.

"Do you regret bringing me back now that you know everything?"

"Not at all, I would do it all over again if given the chance. You may have gone on to produce terror across the world, but I cannot regret trying to save my dearest friend."

"I'm your dearest friend, huh?" Reaper remarked with a smirk, crossing his arms as he eyed her curiously.

"Yes, one of them, though I suppose you outrank the others since the only other two that held the same status are either dead or they abandoned me. Now drink for that question out of turn."

"This is bullshit." Reaper remarked bitterly, giving the angelic woman a sneer before downing another shot. At this point he was starting to feel a bit warm from all the liquor. Angela hated to admit to herself she was too, but there was no need to state it. They both knew she was too much of a lightweight. Perhaps that was another reason why she didn't go out drinking with them often. A memory of such a time popped into her mind, prompting her next question.

"If you recall, there were times I'd journey out of my lab for drinks. It was always so fun, but I will admit that I could never stay sober for long."

"You're a petite lady; you weren't made to handle large amounts of liquor, Ange."

"I know, but I'm leading up to my question. Whenever I had too much, you'd always take up the task of walking me back to my room on the base without hesitance. We always meshed well, you and I, so did it ever occur to you to try something whenever you chaperoned me to my room?"

"Fuck no, what kind of shameless pervert do you take me for? I would never do anything to you that wasn't consensual, and any decision you would have made while that far gone wouldn't have been reliable. So no, I would never dream of taking advantage of you."

"That's…I suppose it wasn't the answer I was expecting. It's quite chivalrous sounding coming from you, Gabriel." And truly, it wasn't. There was a list of things Mercy was anticipating over that answer. There had always been an unspoken connection between them, one that did not go unnoticed by the others. From McCree's teases to Ana's pestering, it seemed like everyone knew something they didn't. There had been an understanding that they were close, but neither was willing to put the first foot forward. It wasn't out of desire, rather, Overwatch always found a way to keep them apart.

Blackwatch was a specific division that Reyes held sovereign rule over while Angela had been the face of all the medical care and advancements Overwatch produced. Both were busy tasks to keep up with. There were moments that they shared which signified the greater meaning to their relationship, but nothing ever blossomed from the hopeful fruits of their affection. In fact, it was part of why Angela had grieved for so long; not only did she lose her circle of friends, but she also lost the only chance to express herself to Reyes. With how things have ended up now, she wasn't entirely sure it was a wise idea to bring it up anymore.

"Did you ever want me to?"

"Pardon?"

"I said," Reaper breathed out slowly, scooting ever closer to Mercy with his eyes fixated on hers. For the first time in a long time, Angela felt overwhelmed with a heat that had nothing to do with the tequila. As he leaned closer, she could see some warmth in his complexion, indicating that maybe he was struggling as well. "I would never take advantage of you, Ange, but I want to know if you ever wanted me to."

"That's…a bit private."

"So answer the question or take your shot of tequila."

As if on cue, Mercy gripped her glass and brought it to her lips. Reaper watched intently as every last drop was poured into her throat, watching as her muscles twitched while she swallowed it down. She was stubborn enough to play by his rules despite how she struggled with the liquor. That pleased Reaper for some reason. No, there was a reason; he just wasn't ready to admit it to himself yet. That's when Mercy stared directly at him, a mysterious flicker of light passing through her eyes that left Reaper to swallow at a hard knot that formed without him knowing. It was then that he realized just how close he had crept toward the woman. Their knees were brushing while their faces were far enough to notice every detail of the other's expression. There couldn't be facetious with each other now.

"Why did you lie to me about the tequila?"

"The tequila?"

"You said it would taste like nectar," She replied simply, shifting a bit so the side of her shoulder rested against his, leaning on him comfortably. "I don't think it does. The taste on my tongue is far bitterer than nectar."

This is when Reaper—no, Reyes—was given a choice. Everything about this situation was disastrous. He wanted to avoid tangling Angela into this web. It would tarnish her name if anyone found out and it would place a large target on her back for those that wished to do harm to him. Then again, he had been the one to suggest the game, and it would be a lie to say that he didn't hope for something like this; a moment that was so raw and unadulterated. In essence, this moment was their own, liberated of titles and duties just as it should be. Just as it was meant to be. Just like the good old days. And now she was gazing up at him from the closer proximity, the luminous sparkle of her blue eyes leaving him breathless. God, she was beautiful, she always had been. It pained him with how tangible the emotions were, how he could taste her lips on his without touching. They had lost each other once before which left their emotions unrequited. Was it better that way? He visibly clenched his jaw and tightened his hands, clearly straining himself from touching her while he debated.

" _Angela_." He whispered her name in a husky tone, nearly matching her hazy-eyed expression.

" _Gabriel_."

"You don't want to do this."

"I'm in my right mind, Gabe. Don't treat me like a child."

"I didn't lie to you about the tequila. There, I answered your question."

That wasn't enough of an answer for the blonde doctor. In one fluid motion, she had swung her body around in a way Reyes never thought he'd witness. He was frozen in place as Angela now sat in his laps, the pink dusting to her cheeks accenting that puckering pout on her lips. He had been doing so well in keeping himself restrained leading up to now, but his hands began acting of their own accord as they rested on her hips, almost feeling like he were getting high from the touch.

"Prove it," She whispered out to him, her eyes tracing the form of his lips as she spoke. Timidly, her hands found his face, one cradling his jaw while the fingertips of the other brushed against the lower lip that taunted her so. He swallowed hard again, something that she noticed. She forced her eyes upward, catching the heated expression he wore. "I want you to show me just how sweet it can be…surely you can still taste the lingering richness of the tequila on your lips…so show me."

The room began to spin all at once, leaving Mercy to gasp out loud as she was ejected from Reaper's lap with quite a bit of force. He left her lying sprawled against the length of the couch, his own body hovering just above hers. Their noses were brushing while their puffs of breath mingled with each other in such an intoxicating way. There was a purr of delight from the blonde woman who shivered beneath that broader, darker framed man. That alone was enough to seal their fate, prompting a collision of their lips that had been long overdue.


	9. Friction

The first kiss had been simple for the sake of sincerity. This had been built up for several years and Reyes didn't want to eclipse this moment due to overzealous passion. The connection of their lips sparked life, causing a shiver to roll across his skin while Angela was left to shudder in delight. It was as if they had ignited a single fuse which several bombs were attached to. Euphoria could not begin to describe how he was feeling, and if her trembling hands on his face were anything to go by, Angela was feeling close to the same way.

The second kiss had grown greedy, as if they had become like sharks with the taste of blood. The motion between their mouths became more frenzied as each touch sent a new jolt of energy. Those dainty fingers had fallen from his face, aggressively tugging on the front of his leather jacket in a strange change of pace. Reyes wanted to touch her back as well but the damn armor was getting in the way. He abruptly halted their second kiss so he could sit up and dismantle the gauntlets from his wrists. While he was at it, he decided to yank off his gloves and every other nonessential material of clothing. The burning scarlet blaze on Angela's cheeks left him smirking.

"Like what you see?"

She did, not that she had the voice to say it. Angela was breathless in this moment, left to gaze in wonder of the man above her. The anticipation of this moment was beyond painfully long, and now that they were here, she couldn't express her delight. More than anything else in the last few days, she felt as though Reyes was back. Genuinely, he was here beside her. Shock could have been a factor as to why she didn't feel as overwhelmed before, or maybe it was also the fact that he was peeling off all the pieces that made him 'Reaper' to reveal who he truly is beneath all the leather and guises. That, perhaps more than the heat of their bodies is what left Angela to spread her lips in an upturned smile.

"I do."

"Good," Reyes replied simply as he unlatched the rest of his armor and began shedding the heavy jacket. It all crumpled to the floor in a heap. "I do too."

"That so?"

"It is so, considering that's my baggy shirt and far-too-large-for-you-shorts."

" _Sheisse_ …I assumed wrong."

"I don't take it personally." He replied as he rolled his shoulders back. They were in this brief intermission of their passion, and while it should feel awkward, it was quite the opposite. They were comfortable in the pauses and breaks of their touches, something that not everyone can do. It felt as though they'd done this a hundred times before, and perhaps the repetitious thoughts of these moments gave them their own personal experience but this was reality. They were living out their personal daydreams now.

With a satisfied sigh, Reyes dove back down with newfound vigor and crashed his lips over the welcoming mouth of Angela's. Thus began the third kiss. The third kiss had been far hungrier than the previous two. Unlike before, they knew the territory of each other's lips now, and nothing could hold them back from taking their fill. The insatiable desire for the touch, the heat, the _friction_ was maddening. Angela was rather submissive in all of this, and that was just fine with Reyes. He preferred to be the leading figure in these things anyways. More than that, he had always wanted to be the one to see those questionable expressions on the doctor's face, to see her squirm, moan, writhe, and pant in delight. All for him, because of what he could do for her.

There was no hesitance in his action; every shift with his body was deliberate and timed. The way one hand had gripped the widest part of her hip and the other tightened around her hand, fingers embracing each other. It was methodical, simply because this has happened before in his mind, and he's had nothing but time on his hands to perfect his dream.

" _Aah, Gabe…!_ " She gasped out into his mouth, a breathy moan lingering on her lips.

Oh, that was music to his ears.

Angela began to move beneath his body, the woman finding it hard to focus with the hold he had on her. The hand on her hip hand began smoothing out circles with his thumb, causing a spray of shivers to appear on her porcelain skin. Then came Reyes' well-placed knee that nestled between her legs, wedging it as high up as it could be against her body. This caused the blond doctor to wrap her arms around Reyes' neck, her own back bowing out in a delicate arch. A dark chortle from the man alerted Angela that he was more than pleased with how things were unfolding tonight.

" _Angela."_

"Mmph…yes?"

"What are you doing?" He asked in a low growl, the heat of desire heavy on his breath as he whispered close to her ear.

"Wh-What?"

"You keep muffling yourself." He replied in a matter-of-fact tone, placing a gentle kiss against her earlobe before pulling back to gaze down at her. "Don't."

"If others hear, they may come and—"

"No one will hear, and if anyone dares to come in tonight, they are going to be absolutely obliterated." He shifted one hand to cup her chin, holding it firmly for a moment so he could have her full attention. "Nothing can come through that door that will stop me from pouring myself over you."

"If I had known, I would have dressed up for the occasion." Angela replied sweetly, her teasing not going unnoticed by Reyes.

"Don't bother. You have always been stunning to me, even without trying."

"For how long have you…well, thought this way about me?"

"Since the beginning," Reyes breathed through his teeth, a smile wide as he began to pepper her neck with kisses. "I recalled thinking you held a certain charm; educated, stern, level-headed, not to mention you were a rare class of a woman; a woman I could find myself growing fond of, despite her incessant work habits."

"Gabriel…"

"That's enough talking." He spoke in a suddenly lower tone again, his mouth latching onto the side of her neck in a tight clamp. Angela craned her head away as he nibbled against her flesh, causing a brief worry to cross through her mind. Would he leave a mark at that rate? As if unpleased by the way she bit her lower lip to keep her moans within, Reyes made quick work of her ear, lapping his tongue against it and grinding his teeth against the lobe in a gentle manner. Angela released her lips and began to breathe heavy, but nothing could block the gasp of surprise one that larger, bare hand found the underside of one breast.

"A-Ah…!" She gasped loudly, the sound of her pleasure equivalent to a symphony in Reyes' mind. The grasp he had was from the outside of the cotton shirt. It was a simple, light caress for the time being. The leg between her hips was something else entirely. Pressure had slowly been applied, as if curious to her reaction. He received exactly what he had wanted as a whimper escaped Angela's lips. He had stopped kissing her in order to give her body the attention it deserved. Despite how young she was when they first met, she hardly aged at all. That could be the fault of her nanobiology, but even if she had aged it wouldn't have caused Reyes to falter. He had held onto so much sentiment toward Angela, far beyond the scope of her physical beauty. She was more than a pretty face, much more.

Feeling complacent, Angela curled one hand against the looming man's back while the other buried itself into the hair at the back of his neck, weaving her fingers against his scalp in a tender way. Reyes purred at the light massage against his head, gaining a smile of delight from the woman below. That's when she noticed a peculiar light give his eyes some life. Then she felt her body being scooped up rather unceremoniously. By that, he had thrown Angela over his shoulder, with her rear sticking out forward beside his face.

"H-Hey!" She protested against his hold, her arms bracing themselves against his back. Reyes simply laughed and gave that round target a nice spank, earning a yelp from the blonde doctor. She glared daggers at him, but the dark blush on her cheeks told him that she would not be out for blood.

"You want more, don't you?"

"I-I…" Angela paused to swallow down her nerves of excitement, deciding it better to nod her head to his question. He quirked his brow at her, as if begging her to speak up. That's when she found her voice again, albeit masked in an unquestionably suggestive tone. "Yes…yes, I do."

"Then I'm not gonna do you the injustice of a couch."

With the blonde doctor safely strewn over a shoulder, he practically stormed the house with surprising speed. He'd use the shadows to travel, but honestly it was just as fast if not faster that he went on foot. Angela Ziegler was in his hold and was just as eager as he was to flesh out the could-have-been scenario they never had the chance to live out all those years ago. Nothing satisfied him more than that thought, and with that in mind he felt as though he could run a marathon without rest. By the end of the night, he knew they'd both feel just as worn and fulfilled.

After a few moments of traversing the single-story home, Reyes arrived at the wooden door on the opposite side from where the living room had been. With Angela still in his arms, he kicked down the door with little patience and nudged it back shut with his heel as soon as they were within the bedroom he claimed. It was simple and rather organized, a trait that Reyes had from before the fall of Overwatch. Angela smiled fondly at the surroundings, but those surroundings soon blurred together as he lobbed her against the bed. She landed with a gentle sound, her back plopped against the smooth quilt on the mattress. Reyes was poised to hop on the bed with her, but he paused, standing before the bed as Angela rose to her knees before him. They were closer to eye level now that she had the bed helping boost her a couple inches. It was the perfect height for Reyes to watch in shock as the doctor clutched the hem of the shirt and pulled up and over her head, revealing the creamy white abdomen he had only imagined about. The muscles on her stomach were subtle, but he could see the skin twist as she tossed the shirt carelessly to the side. Although she had her simple white bra on, she was practically topless before him.

"Have I broken you, Gabriel?" She teased lightly, arching a groomed brow at the way he drank in her form. Feeling a bit bashful now, Angela crossed her arms in front of her, as if to help gain back some decency. He practically shook his head and scowled at the doctor. He certainly seemed embarrassed from being so tongue-tied. A devilish smirk fell on his lips then, causing a playful fear to creep over the woman.

"Not yet, but we'll work on it." Was all he replied with as his hands tucked around her legs and yanked forward, causing the woman to lose her balance and fall flat on her back. With his arms still around her dainty legs, he pulled her figure closer to the edge of the bed so that her hips could rub against the groin which awaited her. Immediately, Angela broke into a fit of gasps, her mouth hanging open as she felt the constricted length beneath the layers Reyes still wore. With her legs wrapping around his waist in a vice, her hands went to her mouth to help mask just how loud she was becoming. A growl escaped Reyes upon noticing then and wretched a single hand forward to tug both her wrists above her head. There was no way she could hide those melodic tunes from him now.

The constricted groin continued to press into her hips with a hunger Reyes has never felt before. Angela had always been there in his heart, ever since the start. From the darkest nook to the brightest edge, her ghost had always lingered within him. Never had he imagined this moment could occur in reality, but he was a believer in miracles now. He just won't tell the good doctor that her resurrection trick comes second to this, in case she takes offense to it.

Speaking of the lithe blonde, the way she squirmed on the bed caused him to notice something. The simple white bra she wore had begun to shift on her body, becoming slightly askew and revealing a light dusty pink color on top of one mound. His hand released her wrists as it curled around her back, grasping for two little hooks he could not find. A snarl of frustration left his lips which prompted a simple smile from the doctor. With a quizzical look, he gazed upon her as she brought both hands forward and unclasped a single clasp that rested in front of her bra. He rolled his eyes as she snickered at him. Now that the bra was loose, he practically ripped the contraption off her body and threw it aside in whatever direction. While he was at it, Reyes peeled those long legs off his body temporarily as he began to tear off the rest of what Angela wore which was just her bottoms. With one fell swoop he yanked off both the shorts and her undergarments—which he could see matched the white simplicity of the top—and casted them aside somewhere as well. There, on the bed before him was the nude, pink-faced doctor that held a half-lidded stare with him.

It shocked Reyes that his pants did not burst apart from his overwhelming excitement. Her figure was a milky white complexion with little in the way of hair or blemishes. There had been the faint pucker of skin above her hip where her wound had healed over, but it was almost nonexistent. He lowered his head and gave the old wound a gentle kiss. Angela arched her back in anticipation, gaining a hum of delight from the man. That's when he pulled back once more to join the woman in naked bliss. Her eyes watched as Reyes shimmied out of the several layers he wore starting with his top. First was the many belts over his chest, then that tactical vest, finally the under suit turtleneck which hugged each ripple of muscle on his body.

As soon as he was topless, Angela felt a burning sensation reach her cheeks again. It had been a long time since she saw his bare body, the last time being a bi-annual examination required of all active Overwatch agents. This was far different than a typical check-up with a doctor she thought idly while watching as he began to follow a similar process for his bottom half until there was nothing left. This left Angela to truly gaze upon him in wonder. The dark tone of his skin hadn't changed upon death, holding that warm luster that it always had. There were several speckles of scares and marred flesh, but judging from the color on some of them, Angela knew that these were not all from the fall of the old facility. More than anything, her eyes could not help but size up the twitching length of Reyes' erection before her.

"C-Come here." Angela remarked as she reached over for the man's hand and tugged him closer to the bed. He blinked his surprise but wordlessly complied with her request all the same. With surprising strength he didn't know she had, the blonde woman yanked him down onto the bed in a laying position. He stared curiously at her for a moment but was left to gawk in a wide-eyed expression as she positioned herself on all fours above his body, her rear sticking up toward where his face was. All at once, Reyes tossed his head back and groaned out upon feeling the warm heat of Angela's lips wrapping around the tip of his throbbing member.

" _F-Fuck, Ange…_ " He whispered into his own delighted moans, causing the woman to shift her hips in delight. Angela gave the man such a nice angle the view while she began to playful suck him off. Reyes was never one to be patient and still though. With both hands taking a nice handful of her rear, he tugged her body slightly back, just enough to bring his mouth against her lower lips. Angela immediately pulled off his cock and cried out in pleasure, his name dropping from her mouth several times. He bucked his hips to signify the woman to continue, which she quickly did after catching her breath. While Reyes' taste had been strong but pleasing, Angela's fluids on his tongue were sweet and sated a craving he formed years ago. He would have kept lapping his lips against her folds for hours if he could, if not for those urgent whimpers that were steadily growing more and more frequent. He pulled his mouth away and gave her rear a nice smack before pushing her aside on the bed.

This time it was his turn to hover above her form, the lusting in his eyes only eclipsed by the desirable look Angela wore as well. With his saliva-slick tip, he guided his length against her lower lips in a taunting manner, rubbing up against her in order to build up more anticipation. Reyes adored how Angela writhed, looking so desperate and wild with pleasure. Those curvy hips bucked upward, begging for more attention from him. There was no denying this any longer. He positioned himself between those creamy legs and pressed forward, the tip of his arousal meeting some resistance from those wet folds. As soon as the tip was in, the rest of his length slipped in without much force. Instantly the two tense up and gasp out the thrill of the passion.

" _F-Fuck—!_ "

" _A-Aah, Gabe…!_ "

The full length of Reyes' erection was eased in fully, Angela's walls hugging tightly to the invasive flesh. She had been so incredibly inviting: Slick but tight, eagerly clamping down onto him without showing signs of letting go. Yet, with the roll of his hips, Reyes was able to slowly pump his cock inside of Angela with careful measure. He didn't want to hurt her, though admittedly the bigger problem was becoming a quick trigger. It had been _years_ since Reyes had real good-to-honest sex, but he found it miraculous that the dry spell would come to an end. The thrusts were delicate at first, only pulling out half way in order to help spread those tight lips apart. To his surprise, Angela curled both legs around his hips and bucked her hips into his length as he had pressed into her, causing a growl of delight to escape him. The sensation of delving deeper excited him far more than he could handle.

"We should…go slow…"

"N-No, I need more, _please_ …"

"Dammit, Angela…"

It didn't matter; the woman had her heart set on it. With another buck of the hips, Reyes was seemingly losing what control he had over the situation. Those delicate arms remained wrapped around the man's neck in a loose sort of necklace, helping to give Angela some balance as she began to thrust herself upward. As she did, Reyes became fixated on the shudder of her body below. The way her stomach tightened with every buck of her body, or how her ample chest bobbed up and down with similar rhythm. He bit his lip and internally cursed himself for holding out for so long. He was backed up—she likely was too by the sounds of it—but he had a mission. He needed to make sure the woman was fully satisfied before he finished, and he wasn't going to finish until then.

With new resolve, Reyes withdrew himself and scooted backwards on the bed. This left Angela to whimper in dismay, but soon she was left gasping as the built muscled of the man went to work. He grasped her hips and flung her over so she was left on her stomach. With a hum of delight at the new view, Reyes reentered Angela from behind. This time, he slammed into her, gaining a shouting moan from the blonde doctor. He was purring from behind clenched teeth as he continued to take her in the new position. Somehow she felt even more incredible from this angle, but that could also be due to the fact that she was drawing close to a climax.

Those hands of her hand braced against the quilt for a while, but once the bubbling heat formed deep within, Angela started reaching back for Reyes. She gripped onto his arms and squeezed tight, as if she would be ejected from reality by the waves of pleasure if she let go. His name kept falling from her lips in ragged breaths, those plump rosy lips hanging open the whole time. Angela couldn't help but be lewd. This had been the subject matter of her fantasies before, and now they were living it out together. While she thought this was bliss now, she knew it would only be greater once the climax rocked her body.

That's when Reyes picked up the pace even more, putting as much effort into ramming into her slippery wet entrance as physically possible. They were both groaning at this point, though Angela was more or less left screaming. Then, he slowed down and eased himself ever so slightly. The woman began to panic and writhe in anticipation.

"G-Gabriel, _why_ —!"

"I don't know where to… _y'know_ …" He fumbled with the words but it seemed Angela understood.

"Inside is fine, Gabe, it will be safe to do so…now, _please_."

She didn't need to say any more, that was all that Reyes needed to hear. He went wild again, those thrust deep and powerful while growing in speed. Their pleas of passion grew in volume as well, but Angela was gripping his arms tighter than before. In a final effort, Reyes rolled his hips into Angela with more ferocity than before. In moments, her walls constricted around his length and the blonde doctor bowed her back out.

Oh, he adored how she melted around his arousal. It just fueled him more as he gazed upon the spectacle of his erotic lover. Angela was riding out her climax, and it was just in time too because Reyes had felt himself lose control now. Just as she began to pulsate around his length, a rumble of thunder escaped his lip at the sensation of ejaculation. He spread his fluids within her walls, burying himself deep within her lower lips. Reyes had been posing himself just above her body, but with the deed done and the afterglow on the way, he plopped down onto her back for just a moment before rolling off of her and resting beside the golden beauty.

They both were spent tonight; physically, emotionally, spiritually. Although parts of the night had been rough, Angela was quite pleased with the ending. Judging from the exasperated expression on that flustered face, she assumed Reyes was too. Wordlessly, she shifted closer to him and curled up with her head tucked against his bare shoulder. Understanding perfectly well that they were not moving, the darker toned man wrapped a single arm around her waist and tugged her close. They would need to shower tomorrow and then talk about their future problems, but that was not tonight. Tonight, they didn't need to worry about responsibilities or titles. No Reaper and no Mercy. It was just Reyes and Angela. A man and a woman, together at last. With a fleeting sentiment that this could last for eternity, Reyes watched as Angela effortlessly drifted off to sleep, leaving the man to soon follow her into slumber.


	10. Home

The evening crept by unnoticed for Reyes, which was unusual for him. Rarely would he sleep well and typically resigned to busying himself with tasks in hopes it would tire himself out. It never would work, but it seemed the surefire trick to give him some decent rest was the presence of a certain blonde doctor. For the first time since he became 'Reaper', Reyes could feel himself fall into such a deep slumber that he was dreaming. It was a brief snapshot of images, but they were of pleasant things of his childhood, of the military, even of Overwatch.

He awoke shortly after the segment where he met McCree—the cocky conceited cowboy had been such a handful—and noticed the bleak sunlight pouring in from the adjacent window. Tired eyes blinked away the blurry filter so he could take a glance around the room. He was still naked, their clothes were still in a heap, but Angela was nowhere to be found. He doubted she would take off on him again, not after what happened last night. It had been a little concerning that she wouldn't wake him.

No, stop that. This was a bad habit of his, a nervous tick more than anything. He was a cautious man, he always has been. Angela was fine, he was fine. No one knows where they are at and none in Dorado even knew their faces. In all aspects they were well-guarded and protected, so he reasoned with himself that everything was fine. The good doctor was likely washing up or getting dressed.

A crashing echo of metal caused Reyes to bolt out of the room and race toward the sound. The reverberating percussion sounded as though it came from the kitchen. Had there been an intruder? Angela wouldn't be able to grab her weapons if this being came from the entryway or living room, so was she making a go for a knife? These horrific thoughts ran through his mind until his heels came to a skidding stop just as he rounded the corner. There, just a breath away from colliding was Angela Ziegler, the petite blonde woman who stared upon him in a dumbfounded manner.

"Er…"

"You're…you're safe."

"Yes, though I'm not sure about these eggs." She jested playfully while motioning to the two plates of food she precariously held. His darker eyes searched her endless blues, questioning how things ended up this way. He couldn't complain, rather, he was incredibly grateful for how things wound up. The broader frame of the man stepped forward, his long arms wrapping around Angela's slender figure. With his face nestled into her neck, Reyes knew then and there that this was the end; He couldn't leave her now. Not ever again.

"Angela." He muffled into the loose tresses of golden hair against her neck.

"Gabriel?"

" _I'm home_."

"…welcome home, Gabe." She whispered this part after a moment of surprise. It may not seem like much, but those words had a significant impact on Angela. Last night she had berated Reyes' action after his resurrection, stating he should—and still could—come back to her. In good company where he rightfully belonged. Hearing these words left the impression he was ready to make the shift; it almost sounded as though Reyes wanted to try and come back. If not to Overwatch, then in the very least just to her.

"Er…I do adore this, truly, but could we do this when I am not balancing food?"

"Hn? Oh! S-Sorry, Ange…" Reyes grumbled for a moment before realizing she had been carrying breakfast and had been en route to the bedroom. Larger hands intercepted the plates, insisting on helping the petite woman with carrying them around. He found himself stumbling a bit with his words as he breathed out his thanks for the food. It dawns on him that he had raced out her in the nude, but what he notices before that is Angela's curvy figure standing before him with nothing but a black shirt. His shirt. It barely acted as a dress, considering it showed enough of her rear to leave him staring. With the click of her tongue, he wretched his eyes back to meet hers.

"If you'd like to eat, why don't you set those down on the table. I was going to bring it to you but it seems I've woken you up. I'll be here when you get back from getting dressed." She turned to sit at the table, a coy smile on her lips as she gazed over her shoulder at him. "Don't forget to pick up your jaw off the floor on your way too, Gabe."

"Hmph…it's not." He jested as he set the food down and ventured back to the bedroom. He returned in quick measure, a simple black pair of pants hugging his form. To Angela, they looked as though they were the pants he wore in his day-to-day outfit, but he seemed to have forgotten the rest of the clothes. Be that out of hunger for food or other things, she couldn't quite say. Judging by the devious glint in his eyes, it might be both.

They passed the time by eating and discussing their next course of action. Angela had always been straight to the point, a trait that Reyes shared. While the discussion was not an entertaining one, it was a necessary one regardless. Both knew time would be running short if an Overwatch operative tracked them down and found them as they were. Using her quick thinking, Angela attempted to use her communicator earpiece to reach Winston to no avail. With Reyes offering a secondary broadband phone that would boost her signal strength, the blonde doctor successfully placed the call that potentially stopped a massacre.

"I was almost unable to stop McCree from running out into the world to find you. That man has no patience, but that pales in comparison to your stubborn will."

"Almost as much as your inquisitive mind." Angela teased back with a pleasant laugh, doing her best to be honest while also guarded with her colleague.

"As long as you are unharmed, all is well. Still, Dorado? You were in King's Row when Lena last saw you."

"I know, and it's all such a long story but I had to detour to South America before I could regroup at the old facility. I wanted to send out this call as soon as I had a free line."

"You aren't being held against your will right now, are you, Dr. Ziegler?" The scientist inquired quietly, his words almost making the doctor nervous. He had a sharp mind, he always had.

"Winston, I would find a way to let you know if I was, but currently I am fine. There is personal business for me here that I must finish up before I rendezvous with the others. I wish I could be more transparent but it's quite…private."

"I understand, you do not hold back things often, so I will assume this is quite the tender topic for you. I'll let Lena and the others know you're safe."

"Who all is currently accounted for?"

"Aside from Lena and myself? McCree just floated in from America when your disappearance occurred and Genji is currently dealing with matters in Hanamura but it sounds as though he is on the way."

"I shouldn't arrive too late to the party then. Have Athena leave a light on for me." She teased once more, a smile on her lips as she speaks with her close companion and fellow scientist. There is an uncomfortable grumble in his voice next, one that grates on Angela's mind.

"Another thing…be careful in Dorado. There has been confirmed evidence stating that a known criminal is in your neck of the woods. While he's yet to take a life, he's been involved with a string of attacks throughout the United States, including successfully raiding Watchpoint: Grand Mesa. It's become quite the international manhunt for him, though all attempts of catching the man have been for naught."

"Do we know anything about him?" Her voice wavers now, a lower octave of worry that Reyes picks up on from across the room.

"Other than he's not your run of the mill thief? He goes by Soldier: 76."

"Understood, thank-you, Winston…I'll be seeing you soon." And with a parting sigh, Angela cuts the line and allows her shoulders to sag a bit in exhaustion. Already off the bat they have someone targeting old Overwatch facilities. Is he a worker of Talon or perhaps an ally in the coming battles? As the doctor spins on her heels to return to Reyes' side, she notices a change in his expression. He looked on edge, almost terse. Her rear pressed into the wooden chair and she leaned forward on the table with her elbows angled. Since he was being quiet, she decided to take the initiative with speaking first.

"With enough backing, you could return to Overwatch if you wanted."

"There's so much wrong with that statement. Namely, 'want'. I don't know if you recall what happened last time—"

"The United Nations is hands-off with this now; we're even breaking international law by converging all together like this according to the PETRAS Act."

" _Secondly_ , everyone would want me back so they could tear my mask off and kill me. I've done plenty of terrible things as Reaper, Ange."

"Winston has a way with people, if we could at least convince him, maybe he could talk down everyone else—"

"I ran into him at Watchpoint: Gibraltar while attempting to hack into the operative database for Talon the same day we crossed paths." He replied without skipping a bit, staring her dead in the eyes. For a moment, the blonde gaped at him in disbelief. At least he wasn't hiding the truth, though he didn't look at all apologetic about it.

"…then it's up to me to smooth things over."

"Ange, that bridge has burned."

"You're right, it burned to the ground in Switzerland, but we're all coming back together. All of us." For a moment, Angela could have sworn she saw a flicker in those dark molten eyes, as if Reyes were responding to her pleas on an emotional level. Whether he was aware of it or not, Overwatch still held a certain place in his memory that wasn't wholly rotten. It felt like she was making a breakthrough with this weathered internal wall, but as soon as she opened her mouth to speak more on the matter, Reyes switched the subject.

"So, last night," He broke through the words, causing Angela to blink in surprise at the new topic. His eyes rested heavy on hers with a look of caution. "I want to…discuss it."

"Oh, was it not satisfying—"

"It was beyond satisfying, Ange, that's the problem." He falters after the words leave his lips, looking a bit worried once more. A sigh escapes his lips and he's left to run a hand through his short tufts of chocolate ebony hair. "What exactly are we doing here?"

"…I don't know." Angela replied honestly after a moment, her hands hugging the base of her mug that Reyes had fetched for her. While she was contemplating what they were, her mind could not help but wander to the fact that he had given her a cup of citrus tea. A soft smile began to form on the corner of her lips as she gazed into her reflection, hoping for an easy answer within the leaves.

There was a pause where neither spoke. It wasn't forced nor was it uncomfortable. It was another brief moment of silence where they could contemplate internally what everything meant. There are certain answers one may like to have stock of, on stand-by in case of the question or situation ever being posed. Never in a million years would Angela think to have an answer for this scenario in the back of her mind. Even if someone had asked her about this instance several weeks ago, she still wouldn't have an approximate answer for them. Reyes was very much in the same boat. He had an efficient way of life. Dying and coming back with everything destroyed meant you had no one to disappoint or hurt.

Now he felt alive again, in his old life where he yearned for the blonde doctor, his witty sniper friend berated him for not making a move and his best friend would stoically agree and give him his mantra. Reyes didn't need to hear Morrison's 'words for the wise' or Ana's incessant nagging. Maybe they held off when they very well could have gotten together, but Reyes never felt there was a right time, especially as things began to turn sour at the end. Last night had been a glimpse at heaven on earth, something he had forgotten existed. Revisiting part of his heart he thought dead had caused a resurgence of emotions. He could no longer care about the faces of those he killed nor could he act as freely as he once had as Reaper. Reyes knew deep inside that he couldn't separate from Angela again, not that she'd ever let him. A half-smile crept onto his lips while he gazed into her bright-eyed oceans. It was so easy for him to stay silent and stare at her eyes when they were younger, perhaps that was another reason why he held off approaching Angela for so long.

A hand came to rest on his, grabbing the attention of his eyes. The single palm resting over his calloused knuckles was creamy white and did not lack warmth. Part of that was to blame on the mug of steaming tea, but Angela had always been a warm woman, inside and out. It wouldn't have surprised him if that was just her internal temperature.

"You told me that you were home earlier…"

"…yes."

"Does that make me your home, Gabriel? Am I what home means to you? Truly?"

"I—" Reyes had to swallow down a knot that formed in his throat without realizing it. After a moment, he glanced between her hand that still lay over his, then back to her eyes. He searched those pleasing blue orbs for a moment before answering. "I'd be lying if I said you weren't always what 'home' means to me…and by that, I mean quite a bit."

"This whole time I feared Ana may have been more alluring to you than I…my jealousy was misplaced."

"Ana was our friend but she had it in for Jack—wait, you were jealous? Of Ana?"

"You two were so close and always had shared stories from missions!" Angela remarked innocently enough, a shy smile on her lips now as Reyes leaned in closer. She glanced away from his scrutinizing eyes, though she couldn't help but snicker weakly in the face of that shark-like grin.

"Here I thought it was one-sided back then."

"It wasn't, but I suppose we all have regrets from the past." She replied somberly, the one hand on the mug still gripping tight to the ceramic and tilting it to her lips. The savory flavors slipped down her throat, making her feel more at home in the rustic house she now assumed was legitimately owned by Reyes. "We have a few days to sort out what it is exactly that we want to do and how we'll get there. For the time being, what shall we do?"

"The festival begins tomorrow night, but there will be preparations starting today. You might enjoy that."

"The festival?"

"Oh, for the love of—the end of the Omnic Crisis festival held in Dorado…have you never gone?"

"I'm European, and I don't have many opportunities to venture out on a vacation as a doctor."

"Then I promise you won't regret all the colorful sights and vendors. It would be something you'd enjoy." He almost insisted, surprising both Angela and himself. It was uncharacteristic how much he was trying to ensure her a pleasant time. Still digesting the tone he had used, Angela brought the hand she had been cradling to her lips and gave it a simple peck of the lips.

"Then it's a date. I'll go freshen up and then I'll be ready to go whenever you are." She replied in a fleeting manner while her body rounded the hallway toward the bedroom. Reyes was left gawking at the strangely confident woman. Was he the only one struggling with this? Being this raw and vulnerable with his heart again was so foreign. It was as if he were relearning a language he knew but had forgotten years ago. Fidgeting in place, Reyes eventually busied himself with cleaning up the kitchen while mumbling quietly.

"It's not a damn date."


	11. Date

So it turned out that the night had become a 'date'.

Reyes loathed the idea of it, but it was becoming startling clear that this evening was just that. The pair had gotten situated in new clothing: Angela wore her jeans and sleeveless turtleneck that she had when entering King's Row almost a week ago, on the other hand Reyes went with a dark-gray t-shirt and his usual black pants that paired well with his dark beanie hat and black aviator glasses. The doctor had been surprised at his casual appearance, but he had reasoned no one would be looking for a dead man's face, or in the very least Reaper's mask would have stuck out like a sore thumb compared to a face that hasn't been seen in years. As far as the several scars across his body, well, many men in Dorado were up to illicit business, so it wasn't unfounded to see someone with scars. It seemed logical, so Angela nodded her head and went along with it.

They departed the house together, side by side as they traversed down the dirty gravel roads winding into town. It was occurring to Angela just how much of a walk it was between the heart of Dorado and where they had been staying. It was obvious why she initially got lost and simply kept running down the seedy alleyways. Not her finest moment, but at least Reyes had been there to assist when trouble arose. She recalled hearing of the rise in cartel activity in the town ever since the Omnic Crisis, she merely never saw it first hand before. With any luck, they would not give them any trouble tonight.

As soon as the two entered the main square of town, everyone seemed to turn heads and look right at them. Angela would blink and smile in kind, but it wasn't welcoming enough in the face of Reyes' grim expression. He certainly wasn't fond of all the stares, but he knew his 'disguise' would hold. He had combed the town when he arrived here to ensure there would be no old Overwatch operatives in case he ever did need to go into town as a man rather than a monster. Despite this, the town populace was thinking he was a monster regardless due to his scowl and demeanor. The pair certainly looked like opposites, but Angela was hopeful that she'd soften his mood.

"Gabe, you've been wearing such a mean mug ever since we entered town."

"I don't like prying eyes."

"You can pass as a local, but I am definitely a foreigner," She began speaking as she eyed the darker complexion of her companion, then her own creamy skin tone. "I don't think your gloomy persona right now is really helping matters. I think it might be the major draw to their eyes."

"I don't give a damn as long as they leave us alone."

"Miss, you there!" A foreign voice called out to Reyes and Angela, causing both to perk up and turn to view an elder woman flagging them down. By the looks of it, she ran a small pavilion that must have set up shop for the festival tomorrow. Reyes sighed; he knew her type. These shop owners liked to make a quick profit whenever possible, hence why they'd all congregate prior to the festival even beginning. This woman was hoping to make an example out of Angela, but not on his watch. Reyes turned to stare down at Angela and tell her just that, but he gaped in shock that she was already gone and by the older woman's side who was now holding up dresses to her body.

"Hey," Reyes practically snarled, approaching the two women with a bit of frustration. "You don't need that."

"Now, now, no woman ever needs things, she wants things. It's the festival tomorrow, and she ought to have something to wear." The elder woman with a long black braid of hair replied, gesturing to Angela just then. "Look at her eyes! Do you not see how the ocean twinkles to the sun?"

"What're you—" Reyes snapped back, pausing only when he noticed just how much Angela's eyes lit up when gazing at the dress currently held up to her. He remained silent and rubbed the back of his neck. This was irritating, but somehow that expression of hers made it all worthwhile. Gaining the answer she was hoping for, the shopkeeper turned to Angela and ushered her into a changing room.

"W-Wait, I shouldn't—" Angela protested with a weak smile before being catapulted into the changing stall by the elder woman with surprising strength.

"The man insists, please!"

"I never said I insisted."

"You never said you didn't." The elder woman snapped back with a smug grin, as if knowing a dirty little secret that she wouldn't share with Reyes. This just got under his skin even more and he began pacing in place. He ought to summon his ebony guns and blast the woman away for her cocky attitude. She wasn't worth his ire or his bullets. It also would disappoint Angela, and for some reason that was starting to become a major decision-making factor for him. Case and point being when she stepped out of that changing stall and revealed her new clothes.

The top was a traditional red ruffled blouse with off the shoulder short sleeves. The crimson dye was a startling contrast to her porcelain skin, but it was an appealing contrast. The tricolor sash around her waist separated the blouse and the lengthy black skirt whose trim was another ruffled texture that rippled just above her ankles. The ensemble looked shockingly well on the Swiss doctor, something that Reyes hadn't been anticipating.

"You look so beautiful! _Bonita_! Your boots certainly do not go with it…here, I have a spare set of shoes that were my granddaughters. You would be doing me a favor by taking them. They'll go with the outfit well!"

"A-Ah, I simply couldn't bother you for that…I'm truly not sure it suits me nor if I should even buy—"

"It's fine." Reyes called out quietly, causing Angela to whip her head toward him. He had been mostly looking away, though she could see him gaze at her from the corner of his eyes as subtly as possible. "It's what you want, so wear it."

"Are you sure? If that's the case, then I'll go fetch my wallet—ah…my currency is all foreign…I never had the time to exchange it…" Angela began with a bright-eyed look which considerably dimmed when she realized her currency. With a grunt, Reyes finally walked into the pavilion and slammed his hand into his pocket. He pulled it back out and left a fistful of money on the counter, earning a surprised look from the elder woman. She swore under her breath in Spanish before glancing up from the money.

"This is more than enough, are you sure?"

"It's fine." He replied quietly, now turning his full attention to the blonde woman who was slipping into the simple wooden heels. He rarely had the opportunity to see the woman in another other than her Valkyrie suit, even before the incident in Switzerland. It was a welcomed change to see the woman wear something more suitable to her figure. The dress certainly accentuated her womanly curves well, the ruffled top bouncing over her chest in waves while that sash hugged the small of her waist in such a pleasing way. He hated to admit the shop owner was right, but Angela was stunning. He also hated the cliché, but he was forced into this role regardless.

"Angela," He spoke up again, a bit of his usual tone coming back to him. "We're leaving."

"Right! Thank you so very much, ma'am." Angela perked up and waved goodbye to the vendor as they departed from the booth. The old woman had been kind enough to give her a small bag to keep her original clothes in. The sway of the new fabric left the blonde woman a bit more conscious of herself, but it seemed like those they passed had a positive reaction to her new style. It boosted her confidence, but as she glanced back at the worsened dark expression Reyes worse, her face dropped.

"…should I take it off?"

"No, it's fine." He replied gruffly, clearly straining his frustration. A slender brow arched as she gave him a quizzical look. They had been in the center of all the commotion, so none would hear her over the loud rummaging of the crowds.

"Gabe, what is wrong? This was your idea!" She huffed indignantly, crossing her eyes as she eyed his reaction. He seemed dismissive at first. That was when he pulled her into an alleyway and cornered her against the wall. A quiet yelp of surprise escaped the woman as he caged her there with his arms, nowhere for her to look but the boiling reddish-brown hues that peeked over the black shades.

"I don't like any attention being drawn to us, but it can't be helped. We're an odd combination, you and I." He then breathed slowly through his nose, measuring his own restraints while looking away. "I also don't blame them for looking; you look mesmerizing."

"Don't try to butter me up now." Angela teased lightly, placing a single hand on the scarred cheek of her companion. A smirk began to grown on Reyes' lips, sparking delight in the woman. They may gather attention because of how opposite they appeared, but as long as the other was happy, life was swell it seemed.

"Oh, no, I'd never dream of it. Not in public, at least." He paused to giving her a flash of his devious toothy grin. "Unless you're into that sort of thing, Doc."

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

"Would you answer me if I asked?"

"Depends if you would try to set it up as a game with tequila." She quipped back at him, earning a chortle from the man who moved aside so they could reenter the town square. They both had fallen into better spirits and continued to rotate through the town idly. Angela had her fill of the culture, but it seemed like everywhere she looked there was always something new to take it. Reyes had been right; the vibrancy of color, the rich aroma of freshly baked goods, not to mention the hustle and bustle of life thrived so fervently in the large city square. It was refreshing and warm compared to her scenic mountain range.

The night fell upon them faster than either realized. As activities began to wind down, Angela and Reyes found themselves sitting upon a small walkway that hung above one entrance to the large fountain area that the vendors were in. The moon rose above the clouds, the wispy white balls unable to eclipse the clarity of the golden-white orb hanging up above. It was a bright evening, but even so there were strings of lanterns and other fiery lights dotting the vicinity. It gave off such a welcoming aura, as if the town never slept during festival season. By the looks of it, that might not be far from the truth.

"It's been such a lovely evening." Angela spoke quietly, a smile hanging from her lips as she dangled her legs off the archway, swaying them playfully. "Who knew Dorado held so much for me?"

"Yeah, you only had to be shot to experience it."

"Oh, hush now. It all turned for the best in the end."

"Hmph," Reyes grumbled quietly as he shifted in his position beside the angelic blonde, uncertain if he agreed with her comment or not. "I wonder how things will play out now."

"Tomorrow morning, I wish to start a round of tests on you."

"Oh, yeah, sure, let's just use the basement downstairs. I have state-of-the-art equipment that's on par with your lab at the Swiss base."

"Really—"

"No, I'm being fuckin' sarcastic, Ange." Reyes snickered as Angela feigned offense. She knew he didn't mean it, but it was still fun to have banter with him. "How are you going to run tests on me without your usual tools?"

"There are certain things I can learn without invasive action, all thanks to the Valkyrie unit. In particular, I want to see just how your cells work."

"Don't get too excited, Doc."

"Only just enough." She replied with a quiet giggle, resting her head on his shoulder. After a moment to sigh, Reyes leaned his head on top of hers, earning another grin from the woman. Taking a moment to savor this memory, the broad-framed man reached over to an adjacent hanging flower pot and plucked a single crimson flower at the base. Pulling back from his blonde companion, he tucked the blossoming bud behind her ear and delicately weaved it into her golden hair.

"Red is a lovely color on you, Angela."

"Only because you see me as such."

"I may care for you, but I wasn't the only person to think you looked stunning tonight." He smirked a bit as he gave it more thought. "Too bad I'm the only one who gets to enjoy it, and I intend to thoroughly later."

" _Gabe_."

"We've been separated for years, Ange. That's a lot of time to catch up on in more ways than one." At that, Angela knocked her elbow against his arm in a gentle manner, as if a warning shot. That softened pink glow on her cheeks and the smile delicately resting on her lips told him otherwise. The grin he wore was from ear to ear, so he wasn't much to talk.

"You know, Angela," He began quietly, turning a bit to face her more. There was a brief moment of coyness, but it disappeared almost instantly when he saw her dazzling blue eyes. _She was perfect_ , and honestly, she always has been. "I have cared for a long time, I simply never thought I'd ever…"

"Ever what?" She asked breathlessly, shifting a bit to eye him better. She looked expectant, eager to hear that sweet string of words from his mouth. Reyes gulped, knowing that they were coming all the same but he was feeling unprepared suddenly. He couldn't stop now.

"Ever _express_ to you what you mean to me… _exclusively_ to me."

"Gabriel…" She sighed with a hopeful light in her eyes that rivaled the moon's brilliance. This was beyond sappy and cliché, everything that Gabriel hated in this world. This wasn't who he was, not this vulnerable, soft heart of a man. The heart he thought died all those years ago. It seemed as though his soul was not the only thing to be resurrected by the woman, he was discovering. With his hands curling around hers in a firm hold, he gave out a shaky breath and continued.

"It frustrates me that you've reduced me to this state, but I couldn't give a damn about that right now. Angela, you are my home, and more than anything I want to tell you—"

A loud explosion from south of the city square erupted, causing both ex-Overwatch operatives to perk up cautiously. Almost immediately, Angela got to her feet and ran toward the hallway leading to the alleyways. Reyes had to scramble over from his position just to catch up to her.

"Angela!" He called for her, only a few paces behind.

"We have to go! Someone may be injured!"

"You don't have your weapons! What're you gonna do? You're just going to get hurt!"

"I'm made of far sterner material than you give me credit for!" She then glanced more over her shoulder to gaze at him while she ran. "I need you to grab my Caduceus Staff; someone's life could depend on it!"

"This is spelling trouble, Ange, I'm not even a hero anymore—"

"But I _am_ , so _please_!" She urged him as she rounded a corner and darted out of view. Resigning with a huff, Reyes began to focus his energy and create a black pool beneath his feet. A pang in his head alerted him that he couldn't pull off many more tricks like this without resting. It was his curse for being alive, but if he could hold off feasting on the energy of others for Angela's sake, he would hold out for as long as possible.

The darkened corridors were dank and desolate. Not even the street rats rummaged in these parts of Dorado. It worried Angela a bit, but not for her own safety. If someone was hurt, it'd be difficult to transport them anywhere. As long as Reyes returned with her medical equipment, it should be fine, and she had every ounce of faith he'd come to her side as swiftly as possible.

By the time the tiny alleyway opened up to an intersection, it sounded as though most of the noises had died down. There was plenty of bullet and other minor explosions, but it otherwise sounded as if things were ending. A rev of the engine told Angela that she was close. Darting into the center of the intersection, she glanced down on alleyway and saw the retreating form of the cartel members that clung to their vehicle while an innocent cry of a girl echoed in the distance. Instinctively, Angela leapt forward and cursed internally as she realized she wasn't wearing her Valkyrie suit.

Then, another explosion filled the proximity, causing Angela to falter backwards from shock. Luckily, she kept her footing well in these heels and braced herself for the heat wave which followed. That had been fortunate, but her heart sank as she recalled the voice of a small girl. She took a step forward with haste when she was frozen once again in place. The coughs of a girl as well as an older man filled her ears, alerting her that they were alive. Typically, Angela would rush out without fear to inspect the wounded, but she found herself faltering tonight. Namely because of what she could see from the back of the man.

A large "76" sewn into the leather of his jacket.

"You…you saved me…b-but why?" The meek voice of the native girl called out to the injured but still intimidating masked man. He turned to her—giving Angela another wonderful view of his leather back—as he answered her.

"Old habits die hard, I guess. Run home, kid, it ain't safe out here." He replied while tossing her a tiny coin purse, one Angela could only assume belongs to the girl in the first place. Noticing how the man approached the alley she occupied, she clung more to the wall, hoping the misty darkness would cloak her presence from the red optical visor.

"You're one of those heroes, aren't you…?"

"Not anymore." Was all he gave in reply before entering the haze of smoke, disappearing now into the same murky alleyway as Angela. At this point, she had turned down one of the adjacent alleys and pressed her back into the wall with both hands clasping her mouth. She needed to be silent and observe. This man was definitely the notorious Soldier: 76 that Winston warned of, but was he that much of a criminal. The gear he used definitely came from Watchpoint: Grand Mesa, but he just saved the life of an innocent girl over pursuing the cartel. Surely that stood for something.

A moment passed and Soldier: 76 rested his back in the alleyway just across the intersection. He hadn't seen Angela yet, but she definitely could see him from the position. He had held onto the strong posture while in the girl's presence, but now that he was alone, she could tell he was hurting. Shoulders slouched forward as he rested awkwardly against the wall.

"Where is it…I know I've got a couple left." The voice mumbled quietly as he patted his body down. A sigh of relief escaped his mask as he grasped the small cylindrical capsule in his hand. The rifle he had rested against the wall beside him as he used both hands to twist the device. Angela's eyes widened as the recognized the object. It was one of her creations. It was a canister meant for Overwatch field agents for quick fix healing. A small device that any soldier could have on their person that—with simple activation—could emit a biotic field in the area, healing all injured allies within the field. Angela poured many hours into the creation of the emitter as it helped her be in more urgent areas on the field. It seemed like the capsule was jammed, and the man hadn't enough patience or energy to take time trying to release the biotic healing wave.

"Oh for crying out loud— _open!_ " He exclaimed quietly as he fidgeted with the device in his gloved hands. As he gave it one more go, the healing capsule fell out of his grasp and began to bounce across the alley. Angela had been silent this entire time, but as she eyed the small device that now rolled up against her ankle, she couldn't help but gasp in awe. Her eyes slowly rose from the device to meet the single red line that glowed in the low lighting of the alley. Angela could see Soldier: 76, and now, he could see her as well.


	12. Reunion

Wordlessly and without a sound, Soldier: 76 glanced around in the shaded depths of the alleyway, ensuring that none others were peering around somewhere that he couldn't see. Deeming it safe that they were alone, he turned back toward Angela and stepped forward. She held her breath as she watched the fairly tall man stride over to her with such a demanding presence, albeit there had been haste in his movements. Once he passed through the intersection and arrived in her alley, the white haired man gazed down at her with what she could only assume was scrutiny. He had saved that girl's life, and for that reason alone she rationalized that she couldn't be intimidated. In this moment, she had to think of him as a stubborn patient.

They stared at each other for the longest time, silence filling the spaces in between. Neither budged nor dared to make a move. Angela was gazing at the injuries he had sustained. He had absorbed an explosive blast for that girl, and somehow he was still standing. Yes, he looked worse for wear, but he wasn't _dead_. That was impressive luck, or perhaps it was impressive technology. Soldier: 76 had also been studying her, she deduced. The way he tilted his head as he gazed upon her indicated that he was taking in her form, either trying to figure out her motives or to see if she were equipped. A breath escaped the visor, a long drawn-out sound that reminded Angela of an old-time veteran.

"There's a failsafe button beneath the canister." She spoke up quietly before the man had the chance to speak. With nimble grace, she bent down and swiped the device off the ground and lifted it to show the man the hidden button. "Should the twist-top ever malfunction, there was always a way for front line infantry to activate the healing field. I would know; I created this device. I had thought all of them were decommissioned and left to gather dust. Seems I was wrong."

"What are you doin' _here_ , Angela?" Soldier: 76 rasped out in gruff disbelief. At the use of her name, she blinked. No, that didn't make sense. Why was there another masked man who knew her? Perhaps her name lingered on some boxes in the Watchpoint: Grand Mesa warehouse. That also was illogical; all of the stamps on those boxes were all non-descriptive. As he awaited his response, he reached over to grab the canister from Angela, who pulled her hand back just outside of his range.

"Who are you, Soldier: 76?" She asked, voice flat and devoid of any warmth. Her expression matched the tone she used, and judging by the way he rolled his shoulders, the man knew she wasn't pleased right now with the use of her name. "Another ghost from my past?"

"Something like that." He replied simply as he glanced around cautiously once more. He glanced back at her and tilted his head. "…'another'?

"You don't seem that injured from that grenade."

"Yeah, well, guess I drank my milk when I was a kid."

"Or you had modifications."

"Alright, we're done here," Soldier: 76 stated firmly as he stepped into her bubble and stretched over her frame to steal the healing device from her. Angela could tell she was hitting the right nails on the head, and it was becoming uncomfortable for him. Good, it meant that he feared how perceptive she was. He gave the failsafe mechanism a try, which released the glowing biotic field he had been craving. A low hum escaped his lips as he absorbed the healing wave, cracking his neck as he healed up. "I'm telling you once; don't follow me, don't speak of me, don't even _think_ of me."

"Is that a threat?"

"Angela, _please_ , I'm on your side."

"On my side _and_ raids Overwatch facilities?" She quipped back with an arched brow.

"Look, I don't know what the hell you're doin' in Dorado, but I swear we'll discuss it at Watchpoint: Gibraltar. You need to leave here, now."

"…why?" She asked curiously, forgetting the fact that he had known of the facility they were using as an impromptu base of operations. She took a step closer, which caused Soldier: 76 to shift in place. He was straining himself; he clearly wanted to be anywhere that she wasn't. She was unearthing him, piece by piece, and that must terrify him more than anything. After a sound of frustration, he stared down at her menacingly, that single red line glowing defiantly in her face.

"There's gonna be war."

"If you know me as I believe you do, then you know I will not tolerate that behavior and will most certainly not leave now." She replied with ease, despite the fact that the man was trying to intimidate her to leave. It was a good thing that her stubborn will was more powerful than his broad image. "War brings violence, violence brings pain and suffering. Where the injured are, I am sure to follow behind to mend the wounded."

A dark miasma began to spread through the corridors, startling both of them. Angela eased her shoulders when the familiar scent of Reyes' musk entered her nostrils, but Soldier: 76 was still tense. She raised a hand, about to interject and speak her peace about Reyes being an ally, but the older man threw and arm out and pushed Angela against the wall, hard.

"What are you—"

"That thing is a monster…and I intend to put him down."

"You can't, that's—" Before she could finish, the familiar plume of black erupted beside them, revealing Reyes in his black-clad regalia. No, right now he was Reaper, not Reyes. That dark chortle sent a shiver rolling across her skin. Reaper seemed serious about tackling this Soldier: 76 problem head on, be it from a personal history or because he was beside Angela, she couldn't say. There was something in the way Reaper held himself; he almost seemed menacingly before this stranger.

"Special delivery." Reaper's voice purred out as he tossed the Caduceus Staff toward Angela, who eagerly latched onto the faithful device. Soldier: 76 watched in what seemed like disbelief. The blonde doctor turned and faced the still injured man. The biotic field had waned at this point, but there was still some wear on his body. She silently opened up her healing stream on him, amplifying the healing process tenfold.

"You need to leave, Angela," Soldier: 76 responded again, his visage now narrowing onto Reaper. The white-masked man tilted his head. There was a silent understanding between the two men, one that Angela could not wrap her head around. The foreign man clutched his rifle tightly, now aiming it at Reaper. "Leave, _now_."

"Listen to the soldier boy." Reaper replied in kind, his eyes never leaving the peculiar man before him. "He started this war, and I'm going to finish it."

"No you will not!" Angela protested indignantly, walking in the space between them to act as a shield. While Reaper wouldn't dare shoot if she were in the way, it was only a hazardous guess that this man would also steer clear of firing with her in the crossfire.

" _Angela_ ," Soldier: 76 practically bellowed in an authoritative tone. "Step aside."

"I will not…I refuse to allow any reckless bloodshed. I already have enough blood on my hands from men who told me to 'not get involved' and to 'move away' from the situation. No longer will I abide by that." As she spoke, she began pacing toward Soldier: 76, which left Reaper to stare on inquisitively. Even without her Valkyrie suit, she seemed angelic and holy. Yet, there was something curious to behold in the way she walked. Angela was not holding herself with the same grace as usual, no, she was storming the man head-on with a newborn fury Reaper had never seen. A moment of silence fell between them all of a sudden, though Angela's vibrant eyes kept staring deep into that pulsating red visor.

"I buried you both once before, do not make me suffer that day _twice_." Angela spoke in a low growl, the words startling both men for different reasons. Reaper was surprised how quick she pieced everything together in the span of time it took for him to fetch the Caduceus Staff while Soldier: 76. The man with the red visor held his silence, which was enough of an answer to confirm her suspicions. A scoff of misery escaped her lips as she reached forward and delicately brought both hands to the mask the foreign man wore.

"It's you under there, isn't it?" Angela breathed out through her clenched jaw, the pads of her fingertips brushing against the receded clasps of the mask. " _John?_ "

Reaper seethed in place, shoulders straightening as he looked at the white-haired man in disbelief. No, he killed Morrison. There was no way he survived. Then again, the same could be said about him, but here he was. He should have known it would have taken more than the fiery inferno to kill the man.

"You know I hate that name, Angel."

"And you know I hate _that_ name."

"…Angela."

"Stop it, Jack." Angela interrupted him, taking a step back to eye him. There was a fire in her eyes, as if the blue seas were set ablaze. It was a bitter pain that tinted her expression now as she gazed upon the man. "You…you were alive…this whole time. You were alive and you never told me...you had your reasons, I know, but you could have at least given me a sign you lived!"

"I couldn't—"

"I mourned you, Jack! Both of you! You both died on that die and I was left all alone!" She shouted, the grip on her staff tightening as she motioned between Soldier: 76 and Reaper. "Your disputes broke out, Ana tragically disappeared, and then you both were left to die in the ruins of the old facility!"

"I didn't die—"

"Well, _he did_!" Angela interrupted again, gesturing wildly toward Reaper. Whether he had a suspicion before or not, it was certainly confirmed now that Reaper was indeed Gabriel Reyes. Soldier: 76 eyed the man in slight bewilderment while Reaper seethed in place. If not for the dainty doctor between, the dual-wielding man would have assaulted Soldier: 76. The red visors stare returned to Angela as she slammed a fist into his chest. It did nothing as far as injuring him, but it was a necessary action for Angela to get out her pent up frustration from all those years. "You _killed_ him, Jack…you killed _Gabriel_ …"

"Then how…?"

"I did what I had to in order to save the life of a friend…and I thought I had failed him in that regard." She paused to look over to Reaper who still held his fabled black guns in each hand. "I was wrong…he lived on."

"Do you know what the hell he is? What he's done?"

"You asked me why I'm here; He saved my life after a Talon operative shot me. I'm in Dorado because he helped in my recovery." She stared into the visor with revitalized energy now knowing the man behind the red light was her old friend. "I know exactly who he is and what acts he's committed, but that doesn't mean I'll disregard who he is to me."

"Reyes is the sole reason Overwatch fell, you think I'm going to sit idly by and allow him to continue his reign of tyranny on the world?"

"The fuck did you just say, Boy Scout?" Reaper spoke up finally, approaching the two from down the alley. His loud footfalls echoed in the corridor, the sound of twisting leather caused Angela's heart to sink. "You think what happened at the old HQ was my fault? Heh, this just goes to show how far on your goddamn high horse you were seated."

"Oh, you mean you weren't attempting to throw a coup? My apologies."

"I was starting a revolution against Overwatch with my squadron—with Blackwatch—but the explosion was _not_ my doing. Talon got a whiff of something good and knew there was a pot to be stirred. You were just too thick-headed to realize it. Then again, I knew about the corruption within our little 'family', but you refused to acknowledge me, so you're as much to blame as anyone else."

"And yet you're the one who retreated to Talon like a wounded animal. How much did they pay you to work for them, Reyes? Was it enough to drown out your guilty conscious or did that not get resurrected back with you?"

"Enough!" Angela shouted between them, placing a hand on each of their chests to keep them separated at least an arm's length away. "I'm finishing this fight, right now. Was it not enough when you both thought the other was dead? Did you not settle with the past of what had happened in Switzerland?"

"It's a matter of pride, Angela." Soldier: 76 responded quietly, eyes still glued to Reaper.

"Fuck your pride!" Angela exclaimed back at him, capturing everyone's attention as the curse fell from her lips so easily. It was one fluid statement that meshed well with her rage, an emotion she rarely let anyone see. It was so easy to let it slip though. This had been a traumatic part of her life and now it was being brought up all over again for a possible reenactment. "I didn't pick sides before because I wanted to be neutral. I'm not standing by any longer while you two pick up where you left off. So lower your weapons _now_. I'm _finishing_ this. It's over. _Done_. No _more_."

Silence once more filled the alleyway in the most gut-wrenching of ways. A thick tension spread between them all. It was so heavy that you could slice it with a knife. Both men still held tight to their weapons, but Angela showed no sign of backing down an inch. Another moment ticked by and the growl of distortion leaves Reaper's lips. With reluctance, he lowers his arms and drops the guns to the ground which are soon absorbed by the murky depths that rotate about him. At least that was one down, but that left Jack with his weapon still. Angela glanced back to fully gaze upon the red visor, peering into it with wide, hopeful eyes.

"Please, Jack…not tonight."

"Angela—" He began quietly, as if ready to hear her out. That's when a gunshot echoed in the alley, one that sounded as if it hit something. Angela surveyed the area with her eyes but didn't see anything. It sounded close. Suddenly, Reaper lurched forward, now leaning most of his weight on Angela's shoulders. She immediately knew what had happened and spun around in place to grab onto those slouched shoulders. Before another moment could pass, Soldier: 76 hoisted his rifle high and flicked on his tactical visor.

"Los Muertos; that gang I intercepted earlier is back. Seems they think I've a soft spot for a civilian woman and a leather-clad freak." He remarked over the loud banging of his rifle firing off into the darkness, hearing the yelps and hollers of the radical gang. With an even tone that didn't reveal if he was worried or not, he asked, "How is he?"

" _Fuckin' peachy._ " Reaper snarled out as he collapsed to his knees. This caused Angela's heart to race as he held him in a tight grip. She braced his fall, but he was looming over her due to their size difference. Angela cursed herself that it was difficult to see the wound with all this black fabric in the way. It didn't help that it was so dark out. A clawed hand grasped at his left shoulder, indicating where the wound was.

" _Verdammt_ …it's lodged in there…no exit wound—" She didn't have time to muse over the injury as several bullets came zooming past their position. Soldier: 76 dashed forward, acting as a shield to prevent anymore incoming bullets from landing.

"Get out of here, Angela! Take Reyes and head for somewhere safe!"

"I can't just leave you here!"

"You can't just leave a bullet in him either!" He snapped back, twisting his head around for a moment to glare a dangerous red stare into her heart. "I can't fight them off and protect you both! You've no armor, no weapon; face it, Angela, you're a sitting duck and he's no better. Go, I'll find you once this has been settled."

"Jack—" His name barely had the time to leave Angela's lips as she felt her body plummet alongside Reaper's. In the middle of it all, he had focused his energy into creating a short-distance connection with the murky rivers he traveled in that led to the hideout. The petite woman clung to Reaper, but she reached up desperately in hope of being able to grab for Soldier: 76—no, for Jack Morrison—before he was out of range. She was left reaching for dense air as the black haze consumed all light, leaving her and a wounded Reaper alone in the swirling dark.


	13. Save Him

This time around, Angela had her eyes wide open as the vortex consumed both her body as well as Reaper's. The man was sluggish as she bore some of his weight to help keep him upright. The winds whipped around them violently, as if he were not as in control this time as he was before. They were levitating in the current of darkness, the tendrils curling around their bodies and tugging them every which way. It was a terrifying sight. Was this what Reyes had to see every time he traveled like this? That thought broke a piece of Angela, knowing that he had to embrace this harrowing curse alone. It must have been such a terrible burden to bear this pain alone, to be left with this darkness.

"G-Gabe, stay with me!"

"Hngh…I'm right here." He reassured her in a raspy growl.

"You have to— _aah!_ " She yelped as a harsh wind wafted against them, causing her to lose the breath in her lungs. "You _need_ to get us _home_!"

"Home…?"

" _Gabe, please!_ "

"I've…I've got it, Ange." He murmured quietly as he raised a clawed hand forward. Almost intuitively, the inky black depths began to part around his poised hand. Revealed before them was a small gap in the dark, a portal to that familiar living room parting before them. All at once, he extended his hand a bit more which caused a vacuum effect to occur. Within an instant, the pair were spit out of the hellish black miasma and left on the wooden floor of the living room Angela has grown so fond of. There was a curse thrown under her breath in her native tongue as she rubbed her side and quickly scrambled to Reaper.

"Okay, now I need you to help me get you up…I'm moving you to the couch on the count of three." Angela urged him quietly, scooping her arms around him as she pushed with all her strength to get him up onto the elevated cushions. It took two tries, but she finally managed to get Reaper up on the couch, mainly by a feat of her own muscles. He had taken a shot to the shoulder so it shouldn't be affecting him this severely. Concern broke out on her face as she shifted him on his side with his back to her. This way, she could get a clear view of the open bullet wound. She rushed over to the table that acted as her impromptu operating bed and returned to his side with tools he had used on her a week ago. Silently, she set them down on the nearby coffee table and slipped a hand over his mask and pulled back, removing Reaper from the room so that the Gabriel she knew could be seen. The first thing she noticed was his eyes being tightly shut. There were beads of sweat coming from his brow and immediately this set off red flags in Angela's mind.

"You shouldn't be responding this way to a simple gun shut…did they lace this bullet with a toxin?"

"N-No…just a regular fuckin' slug."

"How can you know for certain? Gabe, your body is going into shock!"

"I just…I know, just trust me." He offered to her again with some irritation, an answer she was refusing to accept. This tone had been used with her in the past. Gabriel was hiding something from her. Without skipping a beat, Angela reached over and grasped onto a bottle she'd rather forget about. Wordlessly, she tilted her head back and downed a swig of the burning liquid.

"At this rate, we'll need to buy a new bottle." She mused out loud as she brought the mouth of the bottle to his lips. "Drink a little, Gabe."

"Ange—"

"Gabe, take a drink…don't make me use your words against you." The blonde doctor warned with a tone made of milk and honey. Without opening his eyes, Reyes parted his mouth and allowed the liquor to flow down his throat. He scoffed a bit at the taste, but he swallowed it down all the same. After she was satisfied with the amount he took in his mouth, Angela pulled the bottle back and went to work on the wound. There would be two parts to this; extracting the bullet and stabilizing Reyes.

The man writhed against the couch, feeling as the skilled motor skills of the doctor began to worm her tools inside of him shoulder. Reyes was gritting his teeth, but at least he was still conscious and aware of his surroundings. This only fueled Angela to work faster than usual. It was a clean shot, all things considered. It hadn't taken the woman long to grab the crinkled bullet and yank it out of his body. She was faster and much more efficient in comparison to how Reyes treated her wound. Angela was the doctor, after all.

"It's out; I'm going to work on cleaning it up and get you stabilized—" She grew eerily silent as she noticed something about the man change. There, just underneath his dark heavy lashes was a peculiar glow. It was ominous and barely peeked through—he was trying so hard to keep his eyes closed—but the ominous sanguine light filtered through. It dawned on Angela what was happening. Reyes wasn't squeezing his eyes shut from the pain; he was trying to prevent her from seeing what lurked inside his eyes. "— _Gabriel_."

"Don't look."

" _Show_ me."

"Fuck _off_ , Ange." He insisted a bit more roughly than he wanted, but to his surprise, she had grown silent. Out of the blue, a hand clamped on his chin and yanked to the side, forcing him to turn his head toward her. Silence fell between them, a sparking of tensions growing. To Angela's surprise, Reyes had conceded rather early and resigned to opening his eyes fully. With a gasp of horror, the doctor witnessed just how visceral and bright his eyes were when not shielded. It was borderline demonic in appearance.

"Why?" She asked breathlessly, shifting the hold on his chin to gently caress his cheek. Reyes was quick to tilt his head away, another snarl escaping him.

"Stay away…I don't want to hurt you, Ange." He replied quietly, a hint of defeat and guilt in his tone. "This is why I said there couldn't be a 'we'."

"…is this the result of your imperfect cells?"

"This is the result of me not killing anyone…" He admitted in a tone of frustration, eyes shutting as he braced himself against the waves of pain.

"I need you to tell me your regular 'diet' of energy…how much is 'enough' and when was the last time you fed off of anything?"

"I don't know… _hngh_ —it's been…a _while_. It's not like it's a constant need…just when my body needs it most."

"Hold still—" She paused, reaching for her Caduceus Staff and flicking on the healing stream. With an easy click, she read the gauge on Reyes' vitals. What she found was unsettling. Her stream was processing at full power, yet it wasn't enough. It was as if she couldn't heal him fast enough. It was starting to make sense why his body was going into shock like this. At this rate, he'd fall unconscious and start to convulse. From over her staff, she watched as a he continued to writhe every so often. It stung deep at her heart to see Reyes like these. She had to postulate an answer and fast.

An idea gave way in the doctor's mind, one that lit up her eyes with hope and determination. It was a mad thought, one that would likely back fire and potentially bring both of them a great deal of pain, but Angela knew it was worth a try. For Reyes' sake, she had to try. Moving fast, the petite blonde set her staff down and rushed to the other side of the room. Her hands trembled from the adrenaline pumping into her body, to the point that she fumbled with the Valkyrie suit she was grasping. Angela took a moment to slow her breathing which helped her in latching the chest plate and wings to her body. Once those were settled on, she clipped the halo-like headpiece and ran to her staff once more. Reyes gave her an exasperated gruff, his vibrant red eyes lighting up in the darkness of the living room.

"Ange, what're you doin'…?" He gasped out, eyeing her warily and in confusion at the donning of her armor. With a look of uncertainty, Angela shook her head gently back and forth. Her brows knitted together in worry. That left Reyes to panic.

"I don't know."

"Wait, Ange, _stop_ —!" He had no chance to rationalize with the woman, as she reopened her healing stream and poised herself in a delicate stance, a pose he recalled once before. An ethereal light began to crash over Angela's body, stemming from her angelic halo and wings. While one hand held the Caduceus Staff, the other rose up from her side. A single flourish of her wrist caused a newfound light to be born, washing out the room in a blinding, warm pigment. Everything became numb in this cascade of light, but the faint sound of Angela's cries and Reyes' strained groans could be heard.

Then, all of the light vanished in the room.

There was a dim pulsing from the Valkyrie wings, but those too also flickered into darkness. The room had grown foggy, or was that just Angela's vision? The blonde woman slouched forward, leaning heavily on her staff for support. Even though it held her up well, the doctor could not help but fall to her knees on the ground. Chest heaving, fingers twitching, an anxiety filling her senses. Angela felt she was beyond spent with fatigue. She wanted to look up to see Reyes, to ensure he was fine. It was what she need to know more than anything and the silence wasn't helping her racing mind. Try as she might, the doctor didn't have enough energy to even do that. A whiney gasp escaped her as she strained to move her neck to no avail. A leathered hand resting on her back breathed new life into her, a weak smile forming on her lips.

"Angela, are you hurt?" The smooth voice of the man asked cautiously, helping guide her chin up with his other hand so that they could stare into each other's eyes. Angela was happy for the assistance in lifting her head, but what left her even happier was that she could see those dark hues versus the flowing light of crimson. Broken laughter slipped from her mouth, leaving Reyes to furrow his brows.

"Y-You're…alright…my hypothesis was correct, it seems…"

"What the _hell_ were you thinking? Ange, what did you _do_?" He urged her impatiently, frustrations showing as he scooped her into his arms without any effort applied. Delicately, he eased her onto the couch in a seated position as he busied himself with removing the Valkyrie unit.

"It was…a similar process to me healing stream, with one additional source for energy…I'm a factory of vastly improved nanobiotic cells compared to what flows through your veins…it only made sense that it I pulled from my own body…I theorized that your cells might be more 'sated' with something similar to its own coding…in the very least, your body did not reject—"

"You forced me to take _part of you_ , Ange…you caused me to feed off your very life, and for _what_?" He seethed, an underlying rage building up behind his thinning patience. He practically tossed the angelic armor aside once it was all removed from her body, his hand now cupping her cheeks in such a protective manner. Reyes was angry, but Angela couldn't hold back her smiles.

"To save you…a-ah, your wound, let me—"

"Lay down…just rest. I'm fine now, I promise this time."

"Mm…I can't quite yet."

"What is it now? I told you I'm fine, Ange—"

"It's Jack," She said with a bit of urgency, shifting a bit in an attempt to stand despite her predicament. Reyes eyed her in disbelief, constantly blown away by her willpower when others are in danger. "I have to…help him."

"Not like this, you aren't." Reyes spoke flatly, expressing in the firm tone that there would be no work around for Angela in the matter. Her eyes fluttered shut as she rested back down into the cushions, contemplating her choices. After a long moment, she reached over and gave that larger hand a squeeze. Reyes wasn't sure what to expect from the blonde, but it certainly wasn't the words she spoke.

"You..have to go to him, Gabe," She implored weakly, her eyes already dimming as sleep beckoned her. "I need you to do this…for me, _please_."

"What?"

"Gabe—"

"What will stop me from wanting to tear him apart, limb from limb like I rightfully deserve?" He spoke in vicious detail, looming over Angela with a narrow expression. The pleading flicker from the woman caused Reyes' features to soften.

"It's _Jack_ …so, please…please save him for me, Gabe… _please_ …" Her voice listed endlessly, trailing off after every few words as her eyes began to lull shut. She had spent such massive amounts of energy to pull off her stunt to save Gabriel. As the last of her pleas escaped her lips, the blonde doctor fell into a deep slumber.

Silent as the night, Reyes straightened his posture and stood up tall before the woman who slept on the couch. Angela needed the rest, heaven knew she had earned it. Without regard for her life, she healed Reyes by pouring a bit of herself into the healing stream. He may not know all the technicalities of her Valkyrie unit, but he knew the cost of her saving him was. Hell, from one simple moment, the blonde was reduced to frailty. Reyes owed Angela far more than he could ever give back, yet the one request she makes is an impossible feat.

"That man can handle himself out there…I have every right to be the one to gun him down myself for what he's done to me…"

Reyes voice was hushed, but it never lacked in the venom that poured from his heart. Seeing Angela twitch in her slumber tugged at another part of his heart, one that had been healed from the taint he had suffered long ago. An aggravated sound escaped his lips as he reaches for the bone-like mask he's donned for years.

"But I suppose I ought to make sure he doesn't die before I get there."


	14. Ghosts of the Past

The scene was something straight out of a biblical verse. Angela had never been as religious as her mother would have liked, but she recalled the scriptures from her Sunday school upbringing. They spoke of a furnace of hellfire and death, an unending maw of gnashing teeth and screams of agony. The miserable place of torment that was stuffed with sulfurous fumes. It is where the fallen angels wake. The antithesis of Heaven.

It is Hell.

"Gabriel!" Her voice booms out above the carnage of soot and embers, the propelled speed of her wings kicking up flickers of flames wherever she passed. There was silence among the wreckage, unsettling the blonde woman further. She was determined to find him, _to save them_. As their teammate and doctor, she would be doing an injustice by not searching for them. As their friend, she would be failing them.

"Jack!" Once more she cries out in an attempt to grab the attention of her loved ones. With the kick of her heels, the Valkyrie suit sends her flying forward to survey more parts of the scene. Even with her visor on, the display picked up no vitals. It was disturbing the doctor. If they were alive, it would give her a steady blip in the system. A ping to dart off to. A sign of hope. Yet, there was none to be found.

No, she needed to be stronger than this. More determined to find them than the overwhelming fear that coated her heart and weighted it down into her stomach. If she gave up hope, then it would be an indicator than all overs could cave in around her as well. Angela must hold her chin up high with that indomitable spirit in her eyes. Even in the veil of brimstone and ash, she would persevere.

There was a shift in a support beam whose dying breath crackled into the fire. The blonde woman whipped her head to the sound, glancing around to ensure none of the unstable wreckage was to come tumbling down. A coughing fit broke out from her lips, a sign that Angela had stayed far too long as is. The smoke was clogging up her lungs, but she could honestly care less. If she bore down this pain for the sake of her friends, it would all be worth it. Another snapping sound occurred, one that caught Angela's attention from the opposite side of the clearing. There, right where the lobby of the main entrance used to be was a single arm which protruded out from a crumbled wall.

"G-Gabe!" She exclaimed breathlessly, her wings carrying over to the body in an instant. Angela was able to manage clearing the majority of the rubble off his torso, but the bottom half of his body remained encased in the sheetrock and electrical coils. If there were a God she believed in, she'd be praying to them now. There had been far too much blood soaked into the earth than she wanted to admit to herself in that moment. In this moment, she had to hold out for hope.

"P-Please, please, _please_ —!" Angela pleaded, tears rolling down her cheeks like heavy rainfall, dripping off to land on the face of the man below. She had rested his hand in her lap, cupping his jawline delicately. Shaky fingers slipped to the side of his neck and tested for a pulse. To her horror, there was none.

"No, not you…please, you can't leave me, Gabe!" She shouted over the sparks and soot, her cries landing upon deaf or unable ears. Grasping anxiously for her Caduceus Staff, Angela opened up her healing stream and began the connection to Reyes. She couldn't give up, even in the face of death. Genji came back from the edge of death and she had been the one to bring him back. Perhaps if she pushed herself _just a little longer_ , maybe she could pull off the same miracle twice. Yet, at least Genji had a pulse back then, which was more than what Reyes had.

Another bark of coughing escaped the woman as she maintained the golden stream between her staff and the would-be corpse of her dearest friend. He was pinned tightly in there and everyone else had evacuated at this point. If she had someone beside her, they might have been able to pull Reyes' body out of the rubble. There wasn't time to ask for assistance, and Angela never planned on it from the start. She couldn't ask her other colleagues to risk their lives for this fruitless endeavor, even though they'd agree in a heartbeat. That was part of the problem; she couldn't risk any more lives than what was already on the line from this unfortunate dispute.

All she had left was her own life to barter with, but it was one hell of a bargaining chip given the situation. Angela never thought of her own death, but if she were to die for the sake of those closest to her, then it would make the suffering worthwhile. She cleared her throat, spitting up the phlegm from the black smoke. A little longer, _just a little longer_.

One last push was all Angela had left, and it was what she was willing to give in the process. Her eyes scanned the man who remained motionless on the ground, contusions and gashes allowing blood to cover up the natural warmth of his pigment. If she could just save Gabriel, she wouldn't have failed today. Flakes of gold began to materialize in the air, shimmering brightly against the smog which surrounded them. The light was very much the same as that which bathed Mercy's body, her eyes holding that same heavenly glow.

"Gabriel, come back to me," She breathed out, tears still running down her face as she finally admitted to the lie she had the luxury of hiding until now. " _I won't let my hero die_."

A poised hand rose to the sky, causing a pillar of light to come crashing toward the earth where she and Gabriel resided. Alarms were sounding inside her ear, sounds that were indicating the suit's limits, the unresponsive vitals of the man below, as well as the physical restrictions her own body was facing. Was this her limit? No, more, she had to give just a little more, stay _just a little longer_.

As the peak of her abilities was reached, a nearby support beam began to collapse her way. If the healing stream was stopped now, then all hope was surely lost. Instead of running away and accepting the loss as it was, Angela skirted forward into the narrow margin between Reyes' body and the falling beam. It clipped her back on its way down, gouging into her and leaving Angela to scream out. She bridged her body over Reyes' in a split second attempt to protect him. He hadn't been hit with any debris from the fallen structure, much to her pleasure. Still, the stream was weak now as she felt herself dip in and out of consciousness. If she stayed any longer, she'd likely die from the fumes and the smoke. It was nothing short of dumb luck that she was still holding out for this long. The wings began to flicker just as another loud blaring bell alarmed Angela of the Valkyrie unit powering down imminently.

This was it. This was the end of the line.

Her body remained poised above his, acting as a shield from the embers and wreckage. Tears once more fell from her eyes, leaving large droplets to litter the face of the man below. With blurred vision and her wheezing breath, Angela pressed her palm into the side of Reyes' face, hoping he'd open his eyes and gaze upon her with new life. That moment never came, and she was left to scream at the world from the top of her lungs. Once more, war, pride, and ignorance stole away something precious to her. Someone irreplaceable. Her heart ached tremendously. Everything hurt, and it felt like existing without the man below and the other she had yet to find was an impossible feat. Another loud crackling indicated more wreckage from the Swiss Headquarters was coming her way. After an agonizing moment, Angela, brought her lips to the forehead of the man she almost loved and whimpered.

" _I'm so sorry, Gabriel_."

Those were her departing words as she struggled to stand with the support of her Caduceus Staff. They were broken words, sung from broken lips out of her broken heart. Angela Ziegler was thoroughly _shattered_ , from the inside out. A force worked through her body, aiding her in limping away from the corpse of her friend and toward where she hoped fresh air would be. Every bit of her wanted to stay by his side until he awoke, or in the very least until support arrived. No one likely knew she was here; everyone else had vacated as soon as the first explosion occurred. There would be no saving grace for pulling Reyes' body out, nor should she expect any hope for her own rescue. Even if her life were to end here in vain, at least the blonde woman could say she _tried_.

The frail body of the doctor managed to stumble toward the outskirts of the fires, but it was here that she found herself collapsing. At this point, everything had grown numb. Would she reflect upon this nightmarish day at some point in the future? Idly, she wondered if any good would come of all this suffering. If Overwatch would heal over time, or if this would be the coveted downfall the world had been crying for since the end of the Ominc Crisis. These were the fleeting thoughts of the woman who had nothing left to feel, a woman who was coming to terms with her own death that was certain to come. Even the noises began to fall into a deafened tone, undecipherable and intangible. As if she was losing her hearing, all things began to buzzing into silence. The only thing that had her curious was the rhythmic pounding of the earth and the booming hum which followed it.

Within the inferno with her was the dominant body of a giant made from steel. The way the ember refracted light off the polished albeit scarred metal reminded Angela of her own angelic wings. The man was a fuzzy outline, but she knew who it was; knew who it could only be. A retaining wall was ready to crumble down nearby, one that the other had noticed. A mighty swing of a hammer knocked any and all falling scrap aside, saving the woman from being crushed. With a delicacy she had never seen before, she was cradled into his hold with one of his arms while the other began to latch his hammer onto his back.

" _Mein Freund_! _Wie gehts dir_?" The hazy voice of Reinhardt bellowed toward her through his helmet. The woman kept her eyes opened, though she remained mostly motionless in his hold as he charged out of the fire. He kept his gaze fixated upon the frail doctor, afraid that his mighty size might be enough to break her more than she already was. New tears began to roll down her face as she did her best to reply before the dark took hold of her.

" _Mein Herz tut weh,_ Reinhardt _…ich bin…_ " She trailed off, her voice now silenced as she passed out in the familiar hold of her colleague. It was a miracle Reinhardt had lingered long enough to notice she was gone. Honestly, Angela hadn't expected anyone to realize her disappearance and think to find her in the blaze. She assumed they'd think she'd gone home to mourn or potentially gone to remedy the injured. No, she wouldn't have curled in on herself in defeat yet, and there were others stationed to assist the injured from the blast. There would be none coming to save the dead; only Angela held fast to that charge for her dearest friends.

A duty she has failed.

* * *

The official funeral had been four days after the explosion. It was the longest stretch of time in Angela's life. After being taken in to a nearby hospital and checked out the following night, she had spent all that time in her basement laboratory at home. Door locked, lights off, not allowing the outside world inside her little sanctuary. Reinhardt had been kind enough to escort her to and from the hospital, but even the boisterous man was subdued in the wake of the unfortunate events.

Despite how she distanced herself, Angela did arrive early for the funeral with Reinhardt by her side. The man had spoken so eloquently and in such high regard about Jack Morrison. Hearing him speak in the past tense wretched at her heart, not nearly as much as the fact that they glossed over Reyes almost entirely. He was still an Overwatch operative—or was—up until the end. Beyond that, he was another human life that was lost to this tragedy. They equally deserved attention at this event. Still, Angela had no energy to fight it and instead lingered after everyone had left so she could have her piece.

"I'm sorry I didn't have much to say when everyone else was here, Jack…" She mumbled softly to the headstone before her feet. It was a fair, cloudy day. There was a distinct breeze, but it was warm and comforting. It wasn't brisk enough for her black button-up and pencil skirt to be unbearable.

"I felt as though I almost did it…I thought, for a moment, I almost could save at least one of you two…but that's the painful thing about that word; _Almost_. I _almost_ deterred this fight, I _almost_ prevented this horrific event, I _almost_ found you, I _almost_ saved Gabriel, I _almost_ died." Her voice rambled on and on, her tone growing more emotional with each word that passed through her lips. A dip in her voice told the trees around her that she was on the verge of tears. The wind blew through them, and as if she could hear those oaks whispering to their roots, Angela began to cry out defiantly into the warm air.

"All of these things…these almosts that I wish would have been successful…but I failed. I could not even die respectfully and in the name of my friends…I lost Ana and managed to survive with you both by my side, but Jack—" She gasped out, now crouching before the headstone while gripping tightly to her chest. "Without you both by my side, I have nothing left…!"

It was true what they say; nothing on earth consumes a man more quickly than the passion of resentment. The odds were never in Angela's favor when it came to diffusing the animosity between Jack Morrison and Gabriel Reyes. For the sake of her missing friend Ana, she had to try. For the sake of her devotion to both mean, she had to try. For the sake of her own heart that sang silently, she had to try. Try she did and try as she might, Angela has failed them now. In the ground below her feet are two unmarked caskets which held only her wistful yearnings. As her body crumpled to the earth and grieved, so too did the clouds cave in on themselves and crash with an audible thundering. If there was a God, surely he was weeping in her stead among the heavens. If only that sort of holy communication were possible, but her skeptical mind could not humor the thought. No, she perished it. It would be fruitless if she ran to religion now, after all this time. The scientist knew better than that. The founding would hold no weight to keep her ground. It meant believing in the Holy Spirit; believing in the unseen. No longer could she put stock into the unseen. She was spent, worn, used. If she would have faith, what would stop her from believe that the two men were also unseen but somehow present? Angela had been spent of the invisible faith after the Swiss Headquarters. No longer could she put energy into blind faith. She gave it her all and poured her very soul into saving the two men, and all it yielded was unending suffering.

It did not get better for a very long time.

* * *

"We understand she's been through a traumatic experience, but a sanctioned investigation has been issued by the United Nations; we must speak with Doctor Angela Ziegler."

"Feh! You think you can do as you wish? Today of all days? It is the funeral; did your boss not tell you this? Go home to your country and return a different day!" The explosive tone of Reinhardt bellowed down to the two well-dressed men. They were rather plain looking, definitely suiting to their career roles. The two had arrived to bring Angela into question over the event at the Swiss Headquarters; something that Reinhardt knew affected the woman greatly. For the sake of his colleague, he would not permit these men access to her right now.

"Mister Reinhardt, if you please—"

"It does not please!" He remarked again, voice unwavering as the giant stood before the men with his large arms crossed. "If you have words with the _Frau Doktor_ , you may ask her another time. Today is a day of mourning. Come back later."

"It doesn't work like that—"

" _Nein_!"

"She is under investigation, Mister Reinhardt. An investigation of this scale is incredibly rare. If we do not 'clarify' her story and establish an alibi for her, then we will have relinquished all rights to protect her in the eyes of her peers and the United Nations." One of the men finally spoke up, brave enough to retort after Reinhardt had shot them down. This grabbed the towering man's attention. He tilted his head at the puny man and narrowed his eyes.

"Explain yourself then."

"Doctor Angela Ziegler is under heavy scrutiny over the incident at the Swiss Headquarters. If she does not have arbitration with us, then it is in the United Nation's educated opinion that she was an accomplice to the events at the old Overwatch facility."

"You people intend to blame her for what happened!?" An enraged Reinhardt exclaimed, his chest puffing out ever more in a show of anger and intimidation. The two men shrank back but still seemed resilient.

"You must understand, Mister Reinhardt. The more that you block our access to her, the harder this becomes in the end. For the sake of her future, it is a prosperous decision for you and any of the other remaining Overwatch operatives to distance yourselves from Doctor Angela Ziegler."

"What—?!"

"It may seem cold," The man interrupted Reinhardt rather quickly, wishing to elaborate better before facing that rage again. "I know it's a difficult time for her, a time where she may need to rely on others, but please understand. She could be courted off by the United Nations and tried for several counts. Believe it or not, we are here to help Doctor Angela Ziegler. Now, help us help her by standing aside so we can do our best for her. The more you involve yourself with her the more it will complicate her case."

"You speak of her like she is some sort of criminal." Reinhardt sneered at the two men, still unconvinced of their intentions. After a moment, the other man glanced up at the giant with some hesitance.

"After we are done here, we hope to find she is not one."

"It was…for a long time. The tensions grew out of spite, I like to believe. One receiving the promotion the other so desperately yearned for." Angela spoke quietly in the dark room with one hanging lamp. She sat at a small metallic table where on one end were the two officials from the United Nations and the other end was where she resided. It had been a week since the funeral, and while Angela knew that was such an ample amount of time for them to give her, she still felt queasy. One man was writing furiously on his clipboard while the other did the interrogating. That's what this was, after all.

An interrogation.

* * *

"Was there anything else you could think of that could have spurned this?"

"No." _A lie._ Angela knew that Gabriel felt there was something more corrupt stirring within Overwatch. Jack never gave him the time, but she did. They were all friends, and whenever there was a fight, Angela would gladly hear both sides out. Her only regret was that she didn't appease Gabriel by defending his point versus remaining voiceless.

"Did either Jack Morrison or Gabriel Reyes show any signs of this final showdown?"

"No, I was blind-sighted by the event…I thought I was making progress in reestablishing their relationship. I was wrong." A half-lie. Part of Angela did see this coming from a mile away. As much as she rejected the thought, there was a piece of her that always knew they'd never give up the ghost. No, their vengeful pride would never allow it.

"Do you know how the explosions were set off?"

"No, I was in the Eastern Wing of the headquarters when the first explosion went off. All I know was that a blast came internally from the Western Wing. Nothing more."

"Did you help escort people out of the Swiss Headquarters at the time of the explosion?"

"Yes, of course. It was my duty as a hero of Overwatch and as a caretaker of the weak. I would not have left any stragglers behind if I still could breathe."

"Then what of Jack Morrison and Gabriel Reyes?"

"Excuse me?" She exclaimed quietly, perking up to give the two men an incredulous stare. They exchanged unamused glances before continuing. A knot formed in the blonde woman's throat as they continued.

"The accounts of your whereabouts at the time of the incident were unaccounted for approximately an hour or so. There is a gap in your reports where you were assisting in taking civilians out of the fires to the time where Mister Reinhardt had found you lying nearly unconscious on the outskirts of the blast radius." With a pointed stare, the man asking the questions leaned a bit forward. "I ask again; what of Jack Morrison and Gabriel Reyes? Were you in that wildfire because you were trying to find them?"

"I had been surveying the area for _all life_ , theirs included." Angela replied, an undertone of sharped steel to her voice.

"And?"

"I found none."

"Are we supposed to take your word for this?"

"Is it not enough?"

"Not alone, not in this situation, considering your relationship with the two—"

"My relationship? You mean being friends with the both of them?" She retorted bitterly at them, glaring between the two men across the table.

"Best friends, by the sounds of it. You three—including the late Miss Amari—were all very close, were you not?" Angela faltered as they mentioned Ana, a name she had not been expecting to hear. Silently, she nodded and the man adjusted her thick-rimmed glasses and continued. "It is not wholly impossible to assume that you may have aided one or both of these men and allowed them to escape without facing the legal system. That is a very serious crime, Doctor Ziegler. The United Nations may be so inclined to jump to these accusations without more…conclusive evidence."

"Did you not go sifting through the soot for their bodies? That should be proof enough of their pride ending their lives." Angela insisted, though she knew what their answer that would have been. Namely because she had returned to the location to see for herself if there were any bodies to be found.

"…we had sent out a search party the following day. There were no bodies."

"Then by all means, place blame onto the sole survivor of her friends." Angela scooted backward and began to stand, her palms resting on the cool surface of the table. "I've had enough. If you require more evidence, you may take a copy of my Valkyrie suit's field report from that night. It will show the vitals of those I saved that night as well as those I was never able to find. It should provide you enough proof that I could not find Jack Morrison or Gabriel Reyes."

"Thank-you, Doctor Ziegler, but we're not done—"

"But I am. I would express my sincerest gratitude for you both coming out today for my record to be placed on file, but I hold no genuine emotion for either of you in this moment. If you'll excuse me, I will have a copy of my Valkyrie suit report sent over to you two promptly. Have a good day."

With the click of her heels echoing as she marched out of the room and into the corridor of an off-site meeting hall that Overwatch has used in the past, Angela wondered if she sealed her fate with the United Nations. To her surprise, they dropped all suspicions of her involvement rather quickly. The following year, Overwatch and all activity conducted by Overwatch was deemed illegal, compliments of the PETRAS Act. Angela never felt so lost, but as much as she wanted to wallow and remain in the hole of her heart, the world kept spinning on. That was the greatest tragedy mankind ever had to suffer; that she had to suffer. The days kept flicking by, slow at first then faster and faster until her heart was filled to the brim with angst and unresolved emotions. Was that why she falsified parts of her reports? She wanted rest and peace for the ghosts of her friends and—selfishly—for herself as well. Even as the years spanned out before her, Angela Ziegler could not easily put faith into the unseen. Yet, she was still Mercy, the angelic overseer of the injured and abandoned. For the sake of those who are still alive, she had to keep going.

 _Just a little longer_.

She had to _try_.

* * *

Hey guys, it's Lenore! I never do A/N stuff but I figure I ought to make one for this. I decided to post a lengthy flashback chapter for more depth on the past before I carry on with the continuity of the story. Don't worry, I have an idea of where I want this to go so it's not a matter of thinking things through. I will be busy for the rest of this week, so my responses may be a little later than my usual every-other-day posting schedule. Also, thank you for all the kind words of praise and criticism to this tale thus far! My account is kinda broken right now and does not show me any new reviews, which stinks, but at least I can see them in my email as they are posted. If I don't reply to your review, it's not because it's not important to me BECAUSE I ADORE YOUR REVIEWS, I THRIVE OFF OF THEM. I wish I had more time to reply to each one, but just know your reviews or my life blood right now 3 Thanks for being so devoted to my tale thus far and I look forward to writing more for you!


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